


Sanctuary

by clarkesbell



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Bellarke, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mentioned Suicide Attempt, Pining, Post 6x08, Season/Series 06, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-06-23 13:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 101,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesbell/pseuds/clarkesbell
Summary: Bellamy had lost Clarke more times than he could count. He defied grounders, kingdoms and even death to get her back. He wouldn't let Josephine Lightbourne get her away from him one more time. After all, they were still breathing.





	1. Chapter 1

He was trying his best to ignore her. As they entered the unknown forest, — Bellamy, pulling the girl with her hands tied by a chain, by the arm — Josephine did everything she could to resist, using the weight of her body as she fought his strength to delay their journey that had her death as destiny. Josephine had spent the first thirty minutes in silence, save for the grunts and sighs she released when she realized that her tactics did not affect Bellamy at all; now it had been more than an hour since she had started chattering endlessly, probably waiting for him to give in and play her game — though he wasn’t sure what this game was about.

Bellamy refused to look at her because it hurt. It hurt knowing that it wasn’t Clarke staring back at him with the familiarity and warmth that was so known to him; it hurt knowing that it wasn’t Clarke's hoarse, sweet voice coming out of her flushed lips. They were Josephine's. That was Bellamy's motivation to continue their walk. He needed to keep Clarke alive, he would not accept defeat. Not again.

The memories of the day that he decided to get on the ship and leave Clarke on Earth during Praimfaya haunted him continuously. For six years, he had excruciated and blamed himself deeply for having followed the advice she had given him hours before being taken away from him: using his head. If he had used his heart, — that very same heart upon which her palm rested that day — perhaps everything would have been different.

 _You would be dead_ , the voice in his mind retaliated. He nodded subtly to himself. It was logical. But still, it hurt. That's why he was using his heart now. Murphy had almost convinced him to make the same mistake, use his head and not avenge Clarke's supposed death. Now it seemed stupid to have agreed to it, but the thought of losing Clarke — again — had left him numb enough to care about nothing else but her safety.

"Hey, knight in a shining armor," Josephine's high-pitched voice caught Bellamy's ears and he flinched. If he tried hard enough, he could still hear the melodic tone of Clarke's voice — and, God, how it hurt. "You're hurting my arm."

He hadn’t realized the strength with which his fingers had bent over her arm and he loosened the grip, not daring to look at her, but feeling the extremely familiar blue eyes practically drilling his profile.

Bellamy's legs ached as they hadn’t done in a long time. His early years on Earth had been spent in long walks through the forest, sometimes without breaks. But he no longer knew his limits, he could no longer walk for hours without rest.

 _A hundred years will leave someone rusty_ , he thought. A brief smile spread across his lips and he thought he should tell that to Clarke when he brought her back. That would make her smile.

"You know this plan is absolutely... stupid, don’t you?" Josephine asked, bringing him back to reality.

"If it ends up with you being killed and me getting Clarke back, I don’t care," he answered coldly, feeling slightly guilty for raising his voice to her. Yes, it was Josephine. But it was Clarke's body, it was Clarke's face, it was her skin under his fingers now.

"Even if you succeeded, _which you won’t_ ," she added in a tone of obviousness that irritated him, "my father is going to kill you all."

"Let him try."

She chuckled and Bellamy suppressed a low roar. Clarke was quite serious, it had always been like that since the day he met her. Deep down, he understood her; from an early age, she had learned to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. Dealing with death could inhibit a person's happiness continuously. But every now and then, he was privileged enough to witness her smile — laughter was even less frequent — and it made him happy.

In space, during Praimfaya, when he still thought Clarke was dead, Bellamy would think about those days, wondering how many more days he would have to live without seeing her smile again. _When was the last time she smiled?,_ he wondered. And then he wished he'd made a joke before she headed toward the satellite dish for her suicide mission, the one that anticipated their separation. He thought it was over then.

But then she returned to him, just like a miracle, a breath of life — part of the life he had denied because of the pain of losing her. And all he wanted was to start it all over again, to make her smile just for the sake of it. But this... this was not her laughter. This made him angry.

"You're certainly driven, I’ll give you that," Josephine commented. "That's one of the best qualities a person can have and... _hey, you're doing it again!_ " she exclaimed, interrupting her own speech and drawing his attention to the grip of his hand on her arm.

"Well, how about you shut up so I don’t have to hurt you?"

"You would never hurt me."

The certainty implicit in her tone made him grit his teeth tightly.

"Bold of you to assume that when I am literally leading you to your death."

"I didn’t mean hurt _me_. I meant my body. My current body, that is. You just can’t accept the fact that I'm not Clarke. I've been complaining and whining for hours and you're doing your best to stay cool. Because you can’t hurt her." 

He didn’t answer, but felt the pang of pain twisting his stomach; drops of sweat wet his brow and used his free hand to wipe them away. Josephine didn’t need to be in his mindspace to know that he wouldn’t hurt Clarke, because he was an open book. He could never do that. He would rather hurt himself in order to keep her unharmed.

"C’mon, I know you have something to say to me. You're not gonna make me talk to myself the whole time, are you? Show me the real Bellamy."

"I won’t play this game with you, Josephine."

"I know you're not so calm."

"How could you _possibly_ know that?"

"Well, _first_ , because you were pretty much close to straight up killing my father after you found out that Clarke was... dead or whatever. _Second_ , did you forget that I'm in Clarke's mind, genius? I know _everything_ there is to know about you."

He swallowed hard, clenching his jaws until he felt his teeth hurt. Maybe, if he focused on the pain, he wouldn’t be able to listen to Josephine. It didn’t work.

"I know you're _dying_ to ask me, Blake. Go ahead, I'll tell you whatever you want to know. You just have to ask."

Bellamy looked up in an attempt to find anything that could divert his attention from the girl. He noticed the faint shade of dark blue that painted the immensity of the sky and prayed that he could reach his destination before nightfall.

Josephine sighed theatrically and stopped suddenly, tugging on the chains that kept her from using her hands. When Bellamy realized she wouldn’t move, he closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds, trying to calm himself down, and turned to face her.

"You can either come with me willingly or be carried on my shoulders. I don’t care which option you choose, your ending will be the same."

She smiled wickedly.

"Oh, Bellamy... you just can’t stop, can you?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, averting his gaze and repeating a mental mantra he had just come up with: _I can’t hurt her, I can’t hurt her, I can’t hurt her_. When it was all over, that would be Clarke. His Clarke. And she couldn’t have a single scratch on her skin. If he could stop her from feeling more pain, that's what he would do.

"Oh, screw that, I'll humor you," she said. "You want to know about her mindspace, don’t you? Well, every mind is different. Clarke's is her cell in space, bland and boring. Her memories are drawings. _So_ creative, "she added, rolling her eyes. "The walls are covered in drawings. Your face takes up at least half of the space."

Bellamy blinked in surprise while hearing her say those words. It was obvious that he and Clarke had lived many moments together; their partnership and leadership required them both to find a way to coexist in peace. And they did it. Halfway there, they also found affection and caring, directed toward each other, which seemed impossible at first. But he didn’t expect Clarke to keep so many memories of him; he didn’t expect to be so... memorable. He felt his stomach sink and his fingers involuntarily tighten around Josephine's arm. She frowned.

"Dude... seriously."

He released her and clutched the chain around Josephine's wrists instead. Her eyes followed that movement with resignation and, by raising an eyebrow as if teasing him, she looked back up at him.

"Anyway, the first time I found her memories... let's just say Clarke wasn’t so easy. I didn’t see much. But when I came back alone, I saw your true self. First, the monster. You almost killed John Murphy," she said, pretending to be surprised. "Then, the great leader, the one who sacrifices everything, even his own life, and wants to be better. Unless Clarke's involved, that is."

"What the _hell_ does that mean?"

She sighed again.

"Well, you keep saying you want to do better, but here we are. You were ready to kill us all once you found out she was dead. Ready for revenge. You don’t mind bloodshed, as long as you have Clarke with you. You don’t care if they come after you when you kill me. So many lives for one. I think she's your weakness, tough guy. Just like you were hers once."

_Just like you were hers once._

Bellamy refused to let those words affect him, even though he had lost that battle three seconds later. _What did she mean by that? And why did it hurt so much to hear her say those words?_ Even if they weren’t Clarke’s, they had come out of her lips and he didn’t know how to deal with the mess they made inside of him.

He shook his head to shake those thoughts away.

"I’d do it for—"

"Your people," she finished the sentence, sighing dramatically. "You both spent so much time justifying the deaths of innocent people with this saying."

"Because it's true," he said, even though he found some sense in what she was saying. Sometimes he wondered if that sentence was just a way he had found to feel better about the lives he had taken.

"You would never trade 283 lives for John Murphy," she insisted. "The prisoners on that ship, Eligius, was it? I saw it in her memories. Would you do the same for John? Or Emori? Or even Echo?" Suddenly, her eyes widened and a sly smile spread across her face. " _Oooh_ , you know what? I’d like to hear about this. What would you do if Echo's life was in danger?"

Bellamy tightened his fingers around the chain and pulled her brutally, forcing Josephine to follow him and keep walking.

"What does the spy think about you risking the lives of all your friends to save Clarke?"

"I won’t play your game," he decided, his cold voice reverberating through his body as a reminder that he needed to be strong for Clarke.

"Because you know I'm right," she practically chirped behind him, entering his field of vision as she began to match his pace. "Her memories of that night, when you saved her from the crazy bitch, Diyoza ... the drawing is giant on the wall."

Though he felt his own heart pounding in his chest, he wouldn’t take the bait. No, that was exactly what she wanted, and no matter how much he wished to hear about Clarke's perspective of that night, the night when he finally felt his lungs functioning properly at the sight of her face, he would rather hear it from her mouth. But Josephine had no intention to stop tormenting him.

"You see... she thought you were probably dead. And then you appeared and traded a real army for her life, said she was important. And then she goes and leaves you to die and still, you're trying to save her again. Tell me, Bellamy, how do you forgive someone who left you to die?"

He bit his own tongue until he could taste the blood filling his mouth. Grimacing, he shook his head and mentally demanded his legs to keep walking ahead, even if the pain persisted.

"I'm just trying to understand... maybe there's something else in this story? Something I missed? Clarke took some of the memories when I wasn’t around. I can’t find them. I guess I'll never find out because she's going to die soon, so you might as well give me some answers before it—"

"SHUT UP!"

Josephine halted suddenly, temporarily startled by Bellamy's explosion. She raised her eyebrows at him as he turned to face her in fury. He thought she would be frightened, but Josephine was smiling slyly. That's what she wanted. Rage. Frustration. Emotions. She was trying to put off the inevitable, and even though he hated Josephine with all her might, Bellamy couldn’t help but let that mask of fury dissipate as he looked at the face that belonged to Clarke. It was distorted in malice, but it was hers. The face he wished to see again for six years, believing he would only see it in his dreams, and now it was within reach and so far away at the same time. How could he hate that face?

"Did I hit a soft spot?" she teased, squinting her eyes, which were darker under the evening light. God, it was so easy to believe it was her when he admired the beauty of their color.

Shaking his head, he gulped.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he said, pointing his index finger at her. Josephine stared at it with a disdain and rolled her eyes.

"I thought we had established this already," she reminded him with an amused smile. "My mind, Clarke's mind. I know exactly what I'm talking about."

"You're not gonna change my mind, Josephine. This... what you're doing now, whatever it is... this is motivation."

"Oh, is it? I just want to see how far you’ll go her. Where do you draw the line? Is there even a line when it comes to Clarke? How much is too much? What if she hates you, Bellamy? Have you thought about that? You betrayed her, left her on Earth to die, you put that flame thing in the head of the child she loves so much, you almost killed her during the eclipse, you said you didn’t need her, you didn’t include her as part of the family, you—"

" _No, stop!_ " he shouted, feeling his breathing grow heavy. He never lost his temper like that, but everything Josephine was saying hurt him. He knew she was right and what made it even worse was the fact that he had never apologized for all of that. Suddenly, fear took over him: _what if I don’t ever get to apologize?_ Holding back the tears he already felt pinching his eyes, Bellamy shrugged as if someone had punched him in the chest where his heart was pounding. "No, I never... I didn’t mean... I..."

"But you did all of this. And she remembers everything. All those thoughts... she couldn’t bear to relive them. And if we think about it, Bellamy..." she continued, tilting her head to the side to face him with fake compassion, "...you killed her. You led her to self-deprecation, self-loathing. You made her think she was expendable. As much as I don’t care about her, I have to admit: she was the real heroine all the time and all you do is put the blame on her. Neither you nor what you call 'family' realize this. No one thanked her for sacrificing herself. No, everyone remembers everything she did wrong. You are all responsible. How does that make you feel?"

 _Like crap. Like a monster. Like someone who promised to never leave her and then proceeded to do that exact thing._ A single tear made its way down Bellamy's cheek and he raised his free hand to dry it with irritation. He couldn’t understand the swirl of emotions that ran through his body at that moment, but he knew that despair and guilt corroded his soul. He wanted to say something but couldn’t find his voice. Maybe he was getting carried away by Josephine’s words, but she was right. The mere thought of Clarke hating herself and him being the one to blame was simply unbearable.

Bellamy swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Little by little, he allowed that feeling he had lost six years ago to infiltrate his skin, the one Clarke had taught him: hope. _Are we still breathing?_ Barely, but yes. He looked at Josephine again and the subtle movement of her chest rising and falling, a calm and steady breathing, was enough for him.

"She forgave me," he said determinedly.

"Did she? Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," he lashed out louder, his voice slightly shaky. He wouldn’t allow himself to doubt Clarke's words. She had forgiven him, he still remembered the way his heart seemed to feel lighter when she hugged him saying, ' _Bellamy, I'll always forgive you_.' "That's what we do. Forgiveness. She gave it to me when I needed it the most and I did the same. I don’t expect you to understand."

"Okay," she nodded in approval. "Okay, we're getting somewhere now. I don’t particularly enjoy the snarky comment, but... comes with the territory. But I have another answer for you, about the reason why you keep forgiving her over and over again."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." Her smile brightened and she lifted her chin to face him defiantly; her face was so close to his that Bellamy could feel her icy breath on his chin, leaving him temporarily dizzy. She had never stood so close to him like that, and for a second, he had to remember that she was not Clarke. Suddenly, he felt ashamed: even if this _was_ Clarke, he shouldn’t be feeling his own heart hammering violently in his chest at the little distance between them. But then again, his heart never behaved normally when she was around, and as much as he tried to ignore that fact, it never stopped haunting him.

Josephine let out a low chuckle, almost as if she could read his mind.

"Oh, my God. You _know_ the answer, don’t you? You're just afraid to admit it."

"Whatever your distorted mind has—"

"Oh, don’t give me that crap. You're in love with her. You've always been. Either she was too blind or too dumb. I’ll go with the second alternative."

He wanted to defend Clarke from those insults, but the second sentence of Josephine's response finally echoed in his mind and he wasn’t able to find his own voice. _You're in love with her._

Bellamy felt his heart protest, beating so loudly that he wondered if Josephine could hear it. He had never fallen in love. The only kind of love he knew was the one he felt for his mother and sister — and it had always been enough. At least that's what he thought. But that same love led him to sneak into the dropship heading to Earth to care for Octavia, and he caught himself taking care of other people as well. He learned to love his friends, learned to love his new home in a bittersweet way, learned to love what he had once sworn to hate for the rest of his life: grounders. And he loved Clarke — but that love was not learned, it was just offered to him. He hadn’t realized it at first, but she was never in the same category as the others. He didn’t know when it started because he was halfway there when he realized he didn’t want to live in a world where Clarke Griffin didn’t exist. He never got to understand those unknown feelings, though, because he pushed them away, fearing what they might mean. Only they came back every time he looked at her. Like now. Hell, they came back even in his dreams, when he still thought Clarke was dead.

Josephine was focused on trying to read his expression; her brow furrowed and her eyes squinted. Now, without the cynicism and malice, she looked like Clarke. The real Clarke. He felt the air leaving his lungs quickly.

"Clarke..." he whispered. There was so much despair in that simple name that Josephine stepped away for a moment.

"Tell me, I'm curious. Let's say you got her back... would you tell her?"

"What?"

"That you love her."

His breath caught.

"I love Clarke because she's my family."

"Pretty boy, if that was true, you wouldn’t have made this" she raised her tied hands, “a mission to bring her back to you. Just a few minutes ago, you said that if this plan ends up with me dead and with you getting Clarke back, you didn’t care about anything else."

He blinked. _Did I say that?_ He couldn’t remember anymore. Was she playing with him again?

"I know she's found a way to communicate with you," she continued. "Found a loophole. But I found one too. Clarke knows you’ve given up on her, that you don’t care enough about her. She had no more reasons to keep fighting me. When we get to the Children of Gabriel, she'll already be dead."

His heart stopped for a second.

"This is not true."

"She surrendered."

"None of this is true," he grunted, pulling the chain and forcing her to approach him. "Clarke would _never_ surrender. And I’d never give up on her. I care about her, God knows I care about her more than anything."

"Oh, _I_ know that. _She_ doesn’t. She hates you, Bellamy. And maybe that's for the best, you— "she stopped abruptly, her eyes widening. She pulled her hands from his grip only to bring them to her head, holding it firmly. "What the hell is she—"

Josephine closed her eyes tightly, shouting, an anguished sound that made him shrink.

"NO!"

Bellamy's heart was beating fast. He caught her by the arms, forcing her to look at him, though she was clearly in a lot of pain to match his expectations. His body was shivering and the mere thought of having Clarke back was able to control him. She was fighting, she was trying to live. That realization struck him unexpectedly and Bellamy felt his knees weaken for a second. _Stay strong. For Clarke._

"Clarke?"

She kept on squeezing her head into her hands, as if she could crush it at any minute.

"How is she doing this? How... _get out of here!_ " she yelled desperately. " _I said._ GET. OU—"

Abruptly, just as quickly as the shouting began, it ended. He counted five seconds of absolute silence; Bellamy held his breath as if he feared that moment of hope would dissipate just as he let the air out of his lungs. He noticed her hands slowly loosening over her head; she looked at her hands in a languid state. He could see her gulping. Gradually, she looked up and when their eyes met, he knew.

Familiarity.

Calm.

Warmth.

Caring.

"Clarke?" he repeated, and this time, the name was almost a plea. _Please, be Clarke._

She blinked twice, stunned, drinking in every inch of his face. Bellamy saw the tears glistening in her eyes as a smile slowly crept across her lips. Without thinking, he touched her face with his fingertips, almost as if he wanted to make sure it was her. He made her smile, his lips mirroring hers promptly.

"Bellamy."

It was whisper, barely audible. _Bellamy._ There was something about the way she said his name, something he didn’t quite understand, but that made the name he spent part of his childhood and adolescence hating become the most beautiful word amongst all the existent languages.

"It's really you?"

"I... yes. I don’t know how..." she trailed off, shaking her head in skepticism. "I was trying to take control, I... Bellamy," she repeated, finally throwing her arms around his neck, the strength of the impact almost knocking him to the ground. He heard himself laughing and she did the same; the sound of her laughter filling his ears and reaching his soul. It was like being home.

God, how he missed her voice. The hoarse, sweet sound; the way her voice cracked when she spoke softly. He tightened his arms around her, trying to protect her, to thank her, to say everything he had never been able to say with that single gesture. He could feel the agony of missed opportunities fading away. She had been with him for so long in the woods, but he couldn’t touch her. He didn’t want to touch Josephine. He wanted to touch Clarke. And now he could.

"How did you do it?" she asked.

"How did I do what?"

She released him, but his hands slid down her back to hold her elbows. He couldn’t — and didn’t want to — stop touching her. He needed to know that she was real or he would go mad.

"It must have been you who brought me back."

"I don’t... I don’t know. We were talking, Josie and I. She was taunting me."

"Taunting?"

"It doesn’t matter now," he said, his thumbs tracing invisible circles on her elbows. "I need to get you to the Children of Gabriel as soon as possible."

"What’s the plan?"

"They know how to remove the mind drive. Things are not fine in Sanctum."

She frowned.

"What happened?"

"Well, I tried to kill Russell and then I kidnapped Josephine."

Surprisingly, she smiled.

"Just another normal day for Spacekru?"

He smiled involuntarily, trying to remember the last time he had actually smiled. It had been before Cillian left the party holding hands with Clarke, before she was used as a vessel by the Primes. He had watched her dancing with the doctor for endless minutes, unable to look away; he had just got her back and was not ready to lose her again. He was annoyed that night: Echo had started an unnecessary fight, he still felt guilty for almost killing Clarke and Murphy and now Clarke was dancing with a stranger he didn’t trust.

Divided between the feeling of happiness at seeing her smile again and punishing himself for not being the reason behind that smile, he saw her whisper something in Cillian's ear and walk toward him. Suddenly alert, Bellamy adjusted himself into his chair and admired the way the skirt of the blue dress she wore flowed with such grace as she walked. He'd never seen Clarke wearing a dress before — and God, it was a sight. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. She asked if he was okay and he avoided the question by saying that she could still kick someone’s ass in that dress. And she smiled, making him smile immediately. It had been the last time.

"A normal day for our family," he corrected her, seeing the very moment when her eyes shone with wonder. That was enough to make him feel uneasy; Josephine was right, he had made her feel excluded, expendable. Bellamy opened his mouth to say that she was an essential part of that family, — perhaps the most important — but she interrupted him.

"Where are the others? Madi? Are they ok?"

"I'm not sure. Josie... hurt Murphy. The others stayed in Sanctum to help him."

She gasped.

"I hurt Murphy?"

He shook his head, briefly hating Murphy for being a traitor and letting Clarke believe it was her fault. Deep down, he knew Murphy was not entirely bad; he just happened to care a little more about himself than anyone else. But he was family too. That matter would be discussed later, when Clarke was safe and sound.

"No, Clarke. _Josephine_ did it. "

"But I—"

" _No_ ," he denied once again, gently sliding his hands up her arms to her shoulders. "You did _not_ hurt Murphy, alright? Besides, we were wrong. Murphy’s not a cockroach. He's a _cat_. He has seven lives, if not more. Don’t worry about him."

Clarke tried to suppress a smile, but eventually gave in.

"And how did you know I was alive? Did my message get through?"

"Morse code?" he teased, grinning.

She rolled her eyes.

"I knew a nerd like you would understand."

"A _nerd_?"

"We're both nerds, Bellamy, you just have to accept it."

He smiled.

"I thought it hadn’t worked. Josephine... she tried to convince me to give in. And I _did_ for a while, but Monty helped me and... well, he's still helping. We were looking for something in Josie's memories, maybe he found something out and brought me back now."

Bellamy frowned, confused.

"Monty?"

She laughed softly, a melodic and lovely sound.

"Sorry, I know I sound crazy."

"I mean, there's someone inside your mind, I'd say madness is an understatement."

"I'll explain everything if I get back, but—"

" _When_ ," he cut her off.

"What?"

" _When_ you get back. We're still breathing."

Her lips curved into a subtle, almost sheepish smile; he knew that she remembered the day they finished the list of a hundred names before Praimfaya. He still found it funny that she had clung to the hope he felt when she'd been the one who'd inspired that feeling in him all along.

"We're still breathing," she agreed in a whisper.

"Clarke, you’ll be okay. I just need you to fight back as much as possible. Do not let Josephine in. Take control. I'll do what I can to bring you back to me."

He hadn’t realized what he had said until he saw the glow in her eyes turn into some kind of skepticism. _She thought you hated her_ , Josephine had said just a few minutes ago. Had she been playing the same game with Clarke? Had she tried to manipulate her the way she'd tried to do with him? Clarke looked away.

"What is it?" he asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Nothing."

"Clarke..."

She looked at him again.

"I just... thought you weren’t..."

"Thought I wasn’t what?"

Clarke sighed.

"Josephine showed me something. A memory of you."

"Of me?"

"Yeah. It was you agreeing to let the Primes get away with everything after all… after... what they did to me."

She swallowed hard, suddenly embarrassed, and looked down at her hands, still tied by the chains. Bellamy felt his heart sinking slowly, wondering what she must have felt when she believed he didn’t care about her. How she must have felt when she thought he had given up on her. _How could she think that when I was willing to die to save her?_

"Did she also show you how broken I was? How I almost killed her father when I found out you were dead? I was ready to do that, Clarke, I swear to God. I said I would avenge your death, make them all pay. I said I would kill them all. But Russell promised not to do anything against our people. I thought you were dead, I thought I'd never see you again and... nothing else mattered after that. Just the safety of our people. I couldn’t do that to them. If it was just me, I would have burned that castle to ashes. But I thought of Madi and the promise I made to you to keep her safe. I could not break that promise and Madi was the only thing left of you."

Bellamy hadn’t realized the itching behind his eyes until they were wet. Clarke’s face was blurry now, but he could see the look of astonishment and admiration on her face. Blinking to avoid the tears, he could only think of how much Clarke's alledged death had affected him. He had done that before, he thought she had died when they went into space and blamed himself infinitely for not being left behind. Those were the worst six years of his life. He tried to move on, pretend everything was fine. And sometimes it seemed to work. Until nighttime came and he saw her face when he closed his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to do it again. There is so much pain one can take.

"I didn’t know."

She took a step forward, somewhat uncertain. Bellamy's eyes didn’t leave her face.

"You couldn’t have known. I'm sorry, Clarke."

"No. No, we have to stop with the apologies."

He smiled and she let out a squeaky giggle between the tears rolling down her face.

"Bellamy... I know we need to go soon and I don’t know how much time I have until Josephine finds a way to take control again. But I need to know."

"Anything."

"I’ve been facing my demons here. Day after day. You'd be glad to know I took your advice saying I'm not afraid, slaying all the demons."

"As long as it's working..."

Clarke smiled.

"It is. But Josephine... she is good. She can make me doubt everything, even myself. And I need to know if you’ve really forgiven me. It's okay if you haven’t, I know these things take time and I will probably never forgive _myself_ for leaving you in the pit, but I need to know... I know I don’t deserve it, but I need to know if you really forgave me."

"She's been trying to get to me all day," he said. "Saying you didn’t forgive me either."

Clarke's face twitched in disbelief.

" _What?_ No, no... Bellamy, I forgave you. _I did_. Never doubt that."

A warm feeling filled his chest.

"Then don’t doubt my words either. I would never lie to you. You should know that by now. Clarke, I broke your trust. And you _do_ deserve it, okay? Josephine may be manipulative, but she was right about one thing. She said you were the heroine all along and none of us saw that. I'll blame myself for that for the rest of my life, but Clarke... you deserve _everything._ So, please, do _not_ give up. Keep fighting. I will not give up on you, I'll _never_ give you up."

Her face was wet with tears and he reached out instinctively, sliding his thumbs over her cheekbones to dry them off. This was the first time he'd touched her that way. Physical contact had always been limited between them; Clarke always initiated the hugs or the simple touches on his arm. But for him, it had always been difficult to show those kinds of emotions, except with Octavia. From time to time, Clarke made him forget about it; because she was associated with familiarity and warmth. However, he always held back, fighting the need to feel her skin under the palm of his hand or to run his fingers through her golden locks. Now she leaned against his touch, closing her eyes to enjoy that feeling, and he swore he could look at her for the rest of the day and it still wouldn’t be enough.

"Thank you," she said.

"But I need you to forgive yourself too. Can you do it?"

She fluttered her eyes open and he moved his hands away from her face, placing them on her shoulders.

"I don’t think so."

"Well, then I'll help you with that."

Her eyes slid to the left side of his chest, upon which she pressed the palms of her hands. He had to restrain himself from jerking away. She would feel the rapid beating of his heart and, even though that feeling of shame was terribly childish, he couldn’t stop thinking of an excuse for his reaction if she asked. The first time she had done this before Praimfaya, he was sure she would blame his pulse racing on the adrenaline and the prospect of the possibility of imminent death.

"Always the heart," she said, softly.

"What would happen to me if I used my head?" he asked in an amused tone, making her look up to smile at him.

Clarke opened her mouth to answer, but it was interrupted by a cry of pain that made Bellamy shudder. Desperation consumed him completely.

"No, no, no. Clarke!"

She closed her eyes tightly, as Josephine had done before, clenching her teeth as if trying to stop the pain. He felt her pain, making him helpless.

"I'm going to take Josephine out of there, okay? I will not let you die, do you understand me? You don’t get to leave me, Clarke. Not again."

But she wasn’t listening to him anymore. By the time her eyelids began to flutter and her legs began to stumble, Bellamy had already put his arms under her back and the back of her knees, cradling her in his arms, completely defenseless. Panting with the terror that afflicted him, he lowered his head until he was close enough to make sure she was breathing.

_We're still breathing._

With a sigh of relief, he nodded to himself and restarted to walk, promising himself that he would not return to Sanctum without Clarke by his side.


	2. Chapter 2

The sky was almost black when he felt the muscles in his arms tighten, causing him pain. Clarke's body was not heavy; she was small and slim, but walking for hours with a person in one’s arms is not exactly an easy task. Add a stabbed thigh to the mix and you have a whole other problem.

From time to time, he’d bring his ear closer to her face, checking her breathing and using the certainty that she was still alive as a motivation.

 _Motivation_ , he thought. Everything he had done for the last few years had Clarke as his motivation. Even when he thought she was dead, every step he took and every decision he made was according to what he thought Clarke would do. She was the motivation behind his desire to be better, to _do_ better.

Bellamy didn’t speak to anyone for two months when they arrived in space after the Praimfaya. Raven was the first one searching for him when she realized he hadn’t eaten anything since they had landed. He was watching the Earth, now so distant and colorless, spinning around slowly through the glass window.

"Thought you might be here," he heard Raven say, though he didn’t move away from the window to look at her. Then she stood beside him, patiently, staring at the globe; it was completely destroyed. "Monty made some algae. I never thought I’d eat it someday, but there’s a first time for everything."

He knew she was also trying to hide her own sadness by avoiding the topic that was obviously haunting Bellamy's mind at that moment.

"I left her," he said in a melancholic whisper.

Raven stared at his profile for what felt like hours, but was probably seconds. Time seemed to make no sense to him anymore. Was that normal? All he felt was an incurable anguish, something that left him numb, completely oblivious to everything and everyone.

"No. No, you didn’t. That's what Clarke would’ve done, you know that as well as I do. If you’d stayed, you’d be dead now. Do you think that's what she wanted?"

"That's what _I_ wanted," he replied automatically.

The silence was so great that he could hear Raven gulping.

"Don’t say that."

"I should have stayed. You would have been saved and I—"

"Would have died," she finished his sentence, sighing. "Bellamy, it hurts me too, okay? We’re all trying to cope with what happened, but it was the only way..."

"She died alone," he insisted in a painful whisper, staring at the immensity of the galaxy without actually seeing anything. "She died alone, Raven. There was no one there."

Raven reached out hesitantly and touched her friend's arm in a failed attempt of consolation.

"You can’t blame yourself."

He sighed, finally turning his eyes to Raven. With a nod to the hallway, he tapped her hand.

"Go eat some algae. I'll get myself a room so I can rest a little."

"You need to eat, too."

"Yeah," he said, even though he made no sign to follow her suggestion.

Raven stood there for a few more minutes, but soon accepted Bellamy's suggestion, knowing very well that he wouldn’t change his mind. He arranged a room for himself, laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling above his head, wondering if Clarke's death had been quick. He hoped so.

Those thoughts disturbed him for long hours. Monty and Harper found him in the same position at night; they tried to comfort him in the same way Raven had done, and he said he needed some time, although he knew that no time would ever be enough to make the pain he felt in his chest go away. It wasn’t just guilt, it was desolation. It was sadness. It was the terror of imagining that he would never see Clarke's face again.

Before they went separate ways for their respective missions, minutes before he left her, she had insisted that he’d listen to what she had to say. Fortunately, he heard her — or maybe it was unfortunate. If he hadn’t tried to use his head, like she asked him to do, he wouldn’t have gone to space. He would have held Clarke's hand until the radiation was strong enough to kill them both. On the other hand, he had those last words of hers impregnated in his mind, always reminding him of the affection she had offered him — a fondness that he never imagined receiving.

Emori also knocked on his bedroom door that night in space, and he thought that her visit had been especially welcomed. She didn’t say much, didn’t try to reinforce the idea that he shouldn’t blame himself, but just sat across the room and watched him, commenting on the new and exciting things she had seen on the ship or on the stomachache that Monty’s algae had caused her.

What surprised him most was Murphy's visit, though. He simply opened the door, sat on the floor with his back against the opposite wall of the room and sighed, saying:

"We're back, bitches."

The familiar sentence had been said with so little emotion, almost as if he had rolled his eyes without actually doing so, and Bellamy couldn’t suppress a humorless chuckle. After that, Murphy felt silent and Bellamy didn’t know when he had left the room, because he fell asleep before he could do so.

The weeks passed by slowly. On his third day, he knew it was pathetic to fight the hunger he felt — ‘ _you will not kill yourself from starvation, Bellamy, this is the stupidest form of suicide in the history of the world_ ’, Murphy had said — and he ate, reluctantly, Monty's algae soup. Eventually, he managed to find his own voice. He spoke to Raven first, asking her if there was anything he could help with on the ship. Little by little, he was able to find a new meaning in that broken family they had established. He was able to know the real Echo and even find reasons to admire her. Her presence calmed him down and he felt a little less alone. Still, Clarke was always on his mind, and whenever he held back and locked himself in his room or the monitoring station — where he would stare at the Earth for hours — everyone knew they shouldn’t try to approach him.

He heard the whispers around the ship when the others didn’t notice him. _It's Clarke_ , they said. And he never forgot a private conversation he had witnessed in their fourth week in space.

He was walking past the monitoring station toward the bedroom when he heard Murphy, Raven and Echo talking in hushed tones.

"...and soon enough he's gonna put a bullet in his head," Murphy was saying.

"Murphy!" Raven scolded him. "Why would you even say that?"

"It's Clarke," Echo said. "It broke him."

"It broke all of us," Raven spat out, somewhat hostile. Bellamy knew she wasn’t exactly happy to have Echo around.

"It's different," Murphy said. "It's _Clarke_ ," he repeated, as if that alone was enough of an explanation. "And that's why I'm saying we’d better hide every gun in this ship before he puts—"

" _Okay_ , we get it," Raven cut him off.

"You wanted a plan to help him out, didn’t you? I'm offering one. Anyone have a better idea?"

"It's no use," Echo sighed. "He was willing to _die_ for her in Polis. He's blaming himself for not doing the same now."

He felt the pain swelling in his chest. Echo barely knew him and she had just described him so perfectly that he didn’t know how to react.

"There’s no Bellamy without Clarke," Murphy added. "It’s always been that way. Which means that there is absolutely _nothing_ we can do but prevent him from taking his own life if it gets to that. _So_ , if you don’t mind, I'll do something more useful than talking to you guys... like staring at the ceiling of my room."

Bellamy came back to reality when he heard an unknown noise not far away. Narrowing his eyes to see through the twisted branches of the trees, he saw an intense green light shining somewhere nearby. A buzz reached his ears and he frowned, uncertain about what was happening. His vision blurred suddenly and he paused for a moment. Looking at Clarke's sleeping face, he preferred to lay her gently on the floor before his legs could bent down and make him fall to his knees.

 _I can’t fall now_ , he thought, kneeling down beside her body.

"You left us, big brother."

Bellamy gasped, hearing Octavia's voice beside him. He turned his head in time to see her standing there, staring at him with contempt, as if he were the worst human being in the world. She was wearing the same clothes she wore when he threw her out of the Eligius ship.

"Octavia..."

"I thought you cared about us."

"Us?"

Suddenly, Clarke appeared magically next to Octavia. Her clothes were dirty, her hair longer than it was now, her face covered in burns that made him shrink. He could almost feel her pain.

"You left me, Bellamy. You left me to die and didn’t even care."

Bellamy swallowed hard, confused and frightened. Looking at Clarke's real body, the one that was not a spontaneous hallucination of his brain, he rested his palm upon her heart. _It's beating_ , he thought with relief.

"You poisoned me, betrayed me, left me alone," Octavia kept on going.

He turned to her with desperation in his eyes.

"No, I... I never wanted any of this..."

"It's a bit too late for that, big brother. My sister, my responsibility. Was that it? Mom would be _so_ proud," she said ironically.

"Your mother didn’t raise you to be a monster," Clarke said. He remembered saying that to her when they went looking for supplies for the first time on Earth. "Imagine what she’d say now."

"No, I didn’t—"

"How many times are you going to hurt us, Bellamy?" Octavia asked. "What I've become... this is all your fault."

"It's _all_ your fault," Clarke agreed.

"No—"

"You care about me, don’t you?" Clarke's unmistakable voice asked, but it didn’t belong to the one accompanying his sister now. He turned to the other side. There was another hallucination: this Clarke wore the same dress he'd seen her wear at the party in Sanctum days ago. The blue fabric made her translucent skin shine, even in the moonlight.

"Of course, Clarke. You know I do."

She nodded, smiling sweetly.

"I know. I care about you too, Bellamy. _So much_." She reached out to him, her hand waiting for his. "Dance with me."

He didn’t have any time to react, for Octavia's voice interrupted him.

"You'll always be my blood, Bell," she said, and this was not the Octavia from before either. She was kneeling down in front of Clarke's body. This Octavia was younger and had no war paint on her face. "I could never hate you."

"Bellamy?"

Grunting lowly, he held his head firmly between his hands, trying to get back to reality. _It's just a hallucination_ , he told himself. He didn’t know what was happening, but he was sure that the woods had something to do with it.

"Bellamy!" the voice called out again. It was Octavia, but he refused to look at her again. He didn’t want to face her, even if it was a vision. He couldn’t face her. He was a coward. There was so much pain and guilt in that broken relationship that existed between them; a relationship that had once felt so close and familiar. He missed his sister; he missed protecting her, playing with her and teasing her every now and then. He missed her laughter and the hopeful light in her eyes.

"Bellamy, is that you?"

"Stop!" he shouted, closing his eyes tightly.

"Wait, Octavia!" Another voice called out and Bellamy opened his eyes to the stranger behind an Octavia who looked much more real than the other ones he had just seen and were now gone.

"Bellamy!" she insisted, running toward him.

He stood up quickly, staggering. Octavia's eyes were already on Clarke's body and his own eyes turned to the tall man who was accompanying his sister.

"Is Clarke...?"

Bellamy looked down at his sister's face in astonishment.

"No. No, she's fine. For now," he sighed. "Is it really you, O?"

She lifted her eyes to meet her brother’s. There was no readable emotion on her face, nor was there any sign of anger. He was content with that.

"Did you have visions?"

"Yes. What was that?"

"The anomaly," the stranger finally spoke up. "It makes you see things.”

Turning his face to the stranger, Bellamy frowned.

"Who are you?"

"Gabriel," Octavia replied, kneeling down beside Clarke.

"Wait... Gabriel...?"

The man sighed, walking a few steps ahead.

"Yes, Gabriel Santiago."

He had a million questions, but none of them seemed to be able to make their way to his lips.

"Bell, what's going on?" Octavia asked. And he clung to the nickname that she had given him when she was five and couldn’t say his name properly. It had been years since she’d called him that.

He saw her pull away a few strands of hair from Clarke's forehead and shook his head.

"Russell used Clarke as a vessel for Josephine’s mind."

Octavia's eyes widened.

" _What?_ " Promptly, she stood up determinedly. "When are you planning on cutting their heads off?"

Bellamy couldn’t help the slight feeling of hope that struck him as she said those words. Well, those weren’t nice words, but it made him realize something. Whether he liked it or not, he and Clarke had betrayed Octavia and knowing that she was still willing to avenge Clarke's so-called death said a lot about what she had become. His Octavia was still there.

"No... no, O. Clarke is still alive. The two are sharing the same mind and that's why I'm here. I was trying to find someone from the Children of Gabriel and it seems that luck’s finally decided to stay by my side," he explained, looking at Gabriel, who looked haunted. "Please, tell me you can help me."

"How can she be alive?" Octavia asked in surprise.

"Alie's chip had something to do with it, but what matters is that she's alive."

"Not for long," Gabriel commented, his voice low and collected.

Octavia approached him.

"You can help her, can’t you? You said you've been fighting what Prime's have been doing for years."

Gabriel hesitated and Bellamy felt his heart stop beating for a few seconds. Octavia gasped.

" _Josephine_ ," she said, coldly. "After everything the bitch did, you’ll really help _Josephine_?"

Bellamy wanted to signal to his sister that her attempt at persuasion was not exactly smart, but to his surprise, Gabriel stared at her gently.

"You wouldn’t understand."

"Oh, I understand that, alright. You're still a coward, _Xavier_."

"O!" Bellamy called, but she ignored him, moving closer to Gabriel.

"That's exactly everything you're against for. Or do you think Clarke gave up her own body willingly? You don’t know her. Clarke overcame death more times than it is humanly possible. She would _never_ do anything like that. Which means that your precious Josephine doesn’t mind murdering people to get what she wants. Is this the girl you dote on so much?"

"Doted on," Gabriel corrected her. "I know who Josephine is. But you don’t know me either, Octavia. You don’t know the demons that haunt me day and night."

"Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you? You were in on all of this, you—"

"Octavia," Bellamy called her again. This time, she stopped and turned to him with irritation. Maybe it was the desperation she saw on his face or the very lack of arguments, but Octavia was suddenly silent and Bellamy approached Gabriel cautiously. "Gabriel, I don’t know what Josephine is to you. But I take it you know the pain of losing someone who..."

"Love?" he finished the sentence, letting his brown eyes fall on Clarke's body. Bellamy was suddenly aware of his sister's eyes on him, studying him carefully. He also felt his own body shivering and his heart hammering violently in his chest. "I know."

For a moment, they fell silent. Bellamy looked at Clarke, so helpless on the floor. It was strange seeing her like that; he always associated Clarke with strength, persistence and courage. He knew she had all of that, but now he needed those same traits in order to save her. And he could only be strong, persistent and brave if she was there.

"You'll help, won’t you?" Octavia asked; this time, her voice was unusually calm and soft and he wondered if his affliction had been the reason for the change in her behavior. Did she still care about him?

Gabriel looked at Octavia at length.

"Yes."

Bellamy breathed a sigh of relief. It was like reliving the night he saw Clarke after six years. The air seemed to fill his lungs more easily. He saw Octavia nod once to Gabriel, as if thanking him silently, and letting her eyes wander toward Clarke. Bellamy ran to her, but before he could pick her up again, Gabriel stood beside him.

"Let me take her, you don’t look very well."

At any other time, he would refuse to let a stranger touch Clarke, but he knew she would be safer with him than in his own arms at the moment. Turning to Octavia with high expectations, he asked:

"Are you coming with us?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Diyoza."

Bellamy frowned.

"I'll need more information," he teased, which only made Octavia roll her eyes.

"She's... stuck in that big, green thing," she said, pointing toward the green glow he'd seen earlier and which he'd completely forgotten. "If the Earth was strange enough for you, this doesn’t even compare."

"Octavia," Gabriel called, approaching them with Clarke in his arms "We'll come back. You shoud come with us. We don’t even know if she's going to get out of there. _No one_ ever did."

“ _I_ did.”

Bellamy was suddenly alarmed.

“Wait, what? O, what the hell happened there? Are you okay?”

But she ignored him.

"I don’t care. I’ll stay until she comes out."

Bellamy knew that insisting would be useless and he simply nodded, even though his heart was clenching at the thought of leaving her again. It hadn’t been easy closing the door of the ship earlier, leaving her outside. It hurt. Each time he forced himself to punish her for what she had done, he also felt the pain of guilt consuming him. If he had been around, if he had tried harder, if he had taken his responsibility seriously... maybe Octavia would still be that just and brave girl who recognized and honored her alliances.

"Stay safe."

"Like you care," she mumbled.

"I care. _Too much_ , O. "

"I've had enough of this conversation," she sighed, nodding to Gabriel and Clarke. "Get that bitch out of her head. My only regret is not having the chance to meet her so I could kick her ass."

Bellamy chuckled involuntarily and he saw the shadow of a smile on his sister's lips. She restrained herself, however, and turned to walk toward the green light before he could say anything else.

Gabriel started to walk and he followed promptly, only ever looking away from Clarke when he needed to dodge branches or avoid the stones and puddles of mud on the ground.

"So, _you're_ Bellamy," Gabriel said, deftly ducking to avoid a crooked branch. "Octavia had a lot to say about you."

"Not good things, I suppose."

Gabriel smiled briefly.

"No, not really."

"How did you find her?"

" _She_ found _me_. Diyoza and her. They wanted to kill me."

He said it with such naturality that Bellamy frowned.

"An unlikely friendship," he added. "But a lot has happened. Your sister had a... problem. And I could help. Except that it took us to the anomaly and Diyoza ended up getting stuck there. We've waited a long time, but Octavia is not one to give up."

"She’s never been," Bellamy agreed.

"This way," Gabriel said, leading him to some sort of shed. The buzzing became even louder in that part of the woods and he restrained himself from covering his ears as he passed by a long structure with dozens of devices hanging from it. Voices overlapped and he couldn’t understand any of them.

"The verge. All signals get sucked up by the anomaly. You pick them up here in endless, repeating waves," he explained. “Sorry about the sound.”

"I'd say that's strange, but you can’t imagine the things I've found since I left space."

Gabriel laid Clarke carefully on an improvised bed, that was actually a wooden table with a soft fabric on top. Bellamy hurried to stand beside her, watching intently as Gabriel searched for something in the middle of the mess of what was probably his home. Bellamy noticed a basket full of weapons and knives and recognized one of them as being Diyoza’s.

"Is Diyoza gonna be okay?" he asked.

Gabriel turned to him with some sort of equipment that seemed to be extremely advanced. It was almost comical when compared to the other objects scattered around the shed.

"No one who’s gotten into the anomaly has ever managed to get out, but... Octavia did it. I suppose there's a first time for everything."

"So Octavia got in?"

"I tried to stop her, but she ran after Diyoza. The anomaly healed her arm, she was probably about to lose it." Looking at Bellamy and realizing his distress, Gabriel sighed. "She'll be fine. Octavia is strong. I don’t think I've ever met anyone like her."

Bellamy nodded silently, turning his eyes to Clarke. She looked peaceful like that, but he didn’t want to wait to see her open her eyes and be able to just see _her_ , not Josephine.

Gabriel positioned the equipment next to Clarke's head. A series of wires and needles were a part of it and Bellamy wondered if she would feel pain. He hoped she wouldn’t, even though he knew that Clarke was strong enough to bear anything.

"She won’t feel a thing," Gabriel said, as if he could read his mind. "Neither will you."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows.

" _Me_?"

"This has happened before," he said. "People sharing the same mindspace. When this happens, someone needs to get into the host's mind to help them find a way to turn off the guest's mind. We can’t talk to her right now, so somebody has to let her know how to do it."

He felt his breath catching. No, he wasn’t afraid. The prospect of seeing Clarke again and helping her break free at once was more than wonderful to him; but the idea of infiltrating her thoughts, of having the possibility of understanding her point of view about things and her own conceptions about him was simply frightening. She said she had forgiven him, but he knew that the memories of every bad thing he had said to her still haunted her.

"Alright."

Gabriel paused for a moment and looked at him with a compassionate smile.

"You're willing to do anything for her."

Bellamy didn’t know how to answer that, so he said nothing.

"So was I," Gabriel mumbled, his eyes moving up to the photo of a slightly familiar girl. The photo was hidden behind a pile of cloths. "I did everything for her. Until I realized that what I was doing was terrible."

 _Josephine_ , he thought. That same girl was portrayed in several paintings at Sanctum. Bellamy wanted to feel compassion, for after all, Gabriel had obviously been in love with the girl. But the hatred he felt toward Josephine for not only taking the lives of so many innocent people, but for almost taking Clarke's life and hurting her, prevented him from expressing any kind of emotion related to that relationship.

"You stopped the cycle," he said, simply.

Gabriel nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"But that's not your body," Bellamy pointed out, receiving an anguished glance from him.

"No. That was another mistake," he said. "A story for another time. I just want to say I'm sorry. I know part of this is all my fault. I regret what I did, I regret it so much. I can see how important she is to you and I know that losing her is not an alternative right now."

"It's never gonna be an alternative."

He nodded again and looked at Clarke, probably seeing Josephine in those unfamiliar features. Bellamy wondered if he would forgive her for doing everything she did.

"How do we do this?" he asked.

"I'm going to put this needle in your neck and hers’. This equipment," he lifted the square-shaped device with two transparent wires that were sealed by some type of metallic circular object, "will be responsible for bringing your consciousness to hers." Looking at Clarke once again, he cleared his throat. "What's her name again?"

"Clarke."

"Clarke will know where Josie's memories are. She must search for memories that are hidden. "

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone has two compartments. Memories that cause pain or disgust or any bad feeling stay hidden. It’s where you’ll find the lever that shuts down the mental activity of a consciousness."

He gulped. What was it with him and levers?

"Ok. Hidden memories. Lever. Shut down mental activity."

"Exactly."

"Have you done this before?"

"Yeah, under other circumstances, but yes. Clarke will be fine," he promised.

Bellamy nodded, silently thanking him with hopeful eyes. That stranger was willing to help him get Clarke back and he didn’t know how to properly repay him for it. There would never be a way to repay him enough. Perhaps, if that was a different situation, he would’ve wondered if it was safe to trust Clarke’s safety to a man he didn’t even know, but if that was Clarke's only choice — he smiled at the oxymoron she had mentioned so many years ago — he would take his chances.

"Remember: you can't let Josephine get too close to Clarke. If she manages to hurt her, Clarke might not come back. If anything happens here, I'll bring you back."

" _No,_ " Bellamy said. "Don't bring me back. No matter what happens, if I don't come back on my own, do _not_ bring me back."

He wouldn't do that again. He wouldn't leave her. He knew his family would be okay if he were gone and they would take care of Madi. But he couldn't make the same mistakes he had to live with for six years. If she died, at least she wouldn't be alone.

Gabriel looked a little surprised, but only shook his head.

"It’s better if you lie down next to her," he suggested, pointing at the spot beside Clarke. "You're gonna be unconscious for a while and I need to keep an eye on both of you."

"Ok."

Cautiously adjusting his body beside Clarke's, Bellamy sighed and turned his face to study her serene complexion. It was strange being so close to her like that, but strangely natural at the same time. Another oxymoron. He saw Gabriel approach them and look at Clarke with a look of nostalgia, even smiling subtly. The man's right hand touched her face and Bellamy had to stop himself from pushing it away with a slap. He knew Gabriel was saying goodbye to Josephine.

"I hope you find your way, Josie," he whispered. "And find peace." Turning his eyes to Bellamy, he sighed. "If you... see Josie over there... tell her that..." Gabriel sighed again and shook his head. "No. Save Clarke. See you soon."

Bellamy nodded and closed his eyes, his right hand groping over the table until he found Clarke's hand. It was cold. He squeezed it tightly and felt Gabriel inserting the needle into his neck. It didn’t hurt, but he winced.

_Save Clarke._

It’s what he should’ve done during Praimfaya.

It’s what he would do now.

With one last conscious sigh, he let the darkness slowly carry him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> I just wanted to thank everyone who read the first chapter and left me a comment or kudos. I also can't believe some of you bookmarked me. Don't mind me, I'm just happy to share my stories and help with the lack of Bellarke in our lives.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely week :)


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy opened his eyes to a familiar door. He had spent much of his time strolling around the halls of the Ark’s cells, where his sister had been locked up after being discovered — because of him. He never knew which one of those doors belonged to Octavia’s cell, his superior never let him wander around long enough to find out. After work, he would spend hours in his room at night wondering if she was okay, whether she felt cold or fear. His mother had died a short time ago and Octavia was the only family he had left; now he was alone and powerless. He would often think about breaking through those doors doors until he found his sister, but that would only result in his death and Octavia would then be alone forever.

Shaking his head to get rid of those thoughts, he pushed the door open and entered the room, coming to a bluntly stop. His attentive eyes wandered around doodled walls, filled with memories, moments that Clarke had lived through. Josephine didn’t lie. He felt his heart racing and wondered if this was normal; after all, he wasn’t physically in that place. His leg didn’t even hurt anymore, it was as if he had never been stabbed or walked through the woods for hours. But everything felt so real.

He saw his friends' faces drawn all over the walls: Raven, Monty, Jasper, Harper, Miller, Jackson, Finn, Wells, Lincoln and even Murphy. The drawings of Abby, Madi and Lexa were larger than the others, as were the drawings of himself. Josephine was also right about that: Bellamy's face occupied more than half of that room and he found himself trying to remember all those moments that she kept in her memory, feeling privileged to be part of her mind. A pleasant, warm feeling filled his chest and he took a step forward, reaching out to touch one of the drawings, gasping slightly as he realized he was being sucked into that memory at that very moment.

He could see himself near the gates of what used to be Camp Jaha, walking beside Octavia. He remembered that. They had just come from the mission to search for Clarke, leaving Finn and Murphy behind — which he deeply regretted even then. Maybe Finn wouldn’t have killed those people and his ending would have been different if Bellamy hadn’t let him walk another way and fully armed.

It was as if he could feel and see the same things that Clarke felt and saw at that moment. She was running toward him with such euphoria that the feeling left him breathless for a moment. He saw himself lift his head the moment Clarke jumped to hold him tight, as if her life depended on it. He felt his own arms hesitating before they finally gave in and wrapped her body with a mix of eagerness and happiness. He remembered being surprised; he didn’t expect Clarke to welcome him like that. No one had ever missed him — other than Octavia — and no one dared to approach him that way. But here was Clarke, offering him that dose of hope and happiness he had already forgotten. But now he felt her emotions as well and all the distress, the relief and longing that mingled in her chest during that embrace seemed to overwhelm him right now.

"Bellamy?"

He was back in that room instantly, moving his hand away from the wall and looking at Clarke, who was standing in the doorway, her expression showing astonishment. He gulped and smiled.

"Clarke!"

"What are you doing here?" Suddenly, she shook her head and smiled. "I take it that having taken control for a while and actually talked to the real you made me block my fear."

"What?"

"What Octavia said before," she explained, though he still couldn’t understand a thing. "I've seen all of my friends, except you. Because I didn’t have the courage to face you after what I did. Even as a projection, I couldn’t face it."

Bellamy frowned. She thought he was a projection, a creation of her own mind.

"Why couldn’t you face me?" he asked, softly.

Clarke sighed and stepped forward, still keeping a safe distance between them.

"Maybe it’s best if I just let it all out, isn’t it? It might feel like talking to you. I couldn’t face you because I hate myself for leaving you in Polis."

He shook his head frantically.

"I left you in Praimfaya."

"It was the right thing to do then." She smiled sadly and tilted her head to the side. "That's what I said in one of the radio calls. I thought I wouldn’t be alive for much longer, I told you that if that was the last call, you shouldn’t blame yourself for leaving me." Clarke rolled her eyes. "Why am I debating with myself? You are not real. But it's _so_ good to see you again, Bellamy. If I don’t make it back, you'll be the last face I'll see. That brings me comfort."

Bellamy's eyes softened over her face, the pain settling in his chest. He remembered thinking the same thing a few years ago, although the context was different. When they first sought Luna’s help and had to drink the unknown liquid the Floukru offered to them, Bellamy looked at Clarke's face before closing his eyes, finding comfort in the fact that it would be his last sight if he died.

"You're coming back, Clarke."

"I believe that too," she replied. "I trust you."

He smiled involuntarily, but then let his face become serious again.

"Clarke... I wish I’d heard your messages."

She shrugged.

"You heard the last one. In Morse code. We’re even."

He chuckled softly and she smiled. Bellamy took two steps forward; she lifted her chin up to look back at him just like Josephine had done earlier. But this was Clarke. This was _the real_ Clarke and the mere idea of having her back was wonderful.

"Clarke, I know how to bring you back."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"How?"

"Do you know where to find Josephine's memories? The ones she hid from the rest?"

"Yes. That's how Monty and I got to you."

"We need to find a lever in one of those memories.”

“A lever?”

“I know, I’m done with levers too. But it's what will turn off Josephine's conscience and let Gabriel do the rest."

She frowned.

"Wait, Gabriel? As in Gabriel…"

"Santiago. Yes. He will remove the chip and set you free, Clarke."

"But, how... I don't und—"

"Oh, I cannot believe my own eyes!" Josephine's voice exclaimed, excitedly, startling them both. They turned to the door, where the girl, in her original form, stared at them with an amused smile. "Bellamy’s decided to join us, _finally_. And now you get to meet the real me. Pleasure."

"The pleasure will be mine when you finally disappear from our lives," he spat out, inadvertently stepping forward to shield Clarke from her with his own body.

Josephine laughed.

"Oh, _come on_ , you know this is a losing battle. Clarke’s tried to kill me several times. In fact, she _did_ kill me several times. I'm getting tired of this. It seems she doesn’t understand that I am immortal. Quite literally."

He clenched his fists, ready to fight her if she took as much as a step forward.

"What are you doing here, Bellamy? Is one of my ex’s lackeys helping?"

"Gabriel himself, actually," he said, pleased to see how those words affected Josephine immediately. Her eyes widened subtly and she shook her head.

"You can’t... I know you're lying. Are you trying to manipulate me, Bellamy? It doesn’t work like that."

"I don’t manipulate people, Josephine. You wouldn’t know that, of course, it must be something that comes naturally to you. Gabriel’s as alive as I am, he’s doing everything he can to fix his mistake."

Josephine clenched her jaws, but he could see her swallowing the lump in her throat. After all, she _did_ love Gabriel. But he wouldn’t feel compassion, not when that girl was a direct threat to Clarke.

"Alive?" Clarke repeated in a whisper, looking at Bellamy as if he were a ghost. For a minute, he thought she was talking about Gabriel, even though they had already discussed the subject. But when Josephine spoke up, he understood:

"Did you think it was a projection?" she asked dryly, still vexed by what Bellamy had said. "He's as real as you. You're trying to make up for everything you've done, aren’t you? For all the times you’ve hurt her, left her behind, forgotten her, betrayed her. I can go on and on about all the reasons she could hate yo—"

"Stop, Josephine," Clarke pleaded.

Bellamy looked over his shoulders, at Clarke, afraid of turning his back to Josephine and giving her a chance to hurt her.

"Clarke knows I never meant to—"

"Why aren’t those memories here?" Josephine interrupted him, looking at Clarke now. "Why isn’t the memory of when he said you weren’t his family here, Clarke? Or when he almost killed you? Did he even apologize for that? How about when— "

"STOP!" Clarke shouted, holding her head between her hands. Bellamy looked at her once again, wishing he could help her in any way, but not knowing how to. "She's just trying to get into our heads."

Josephine laughed, a sneering sound that made Bellamy suppress the urge to kill her with his bare hands.

"Correction: I'm already _in_ your head. And I want Bellamy to see a memory you haven’t taken away yet. Maybe this will make him understand how toxic he is to you. Why didn’t you get this memory out of here, Clarke?"

"Stop _right now_ ," Bellamy demanded harshly. Josephine ignored him completely as she headed to one of the drawings on the left wall. It was Murphy's, with his current haircut and an afflicted expression. "Josephine, I swear to God—"

"If you kill me, I'll keep coming back," she said. "You're just gonna waste your energy."

He noticed Clarke lifting her wet eyes to the girl.

"What are you doing?" she asked, startled. "Why are you doing this?"

"Do you remember what Bellamy said before this memory?" Josephine pointed at Murphy's face, sighing.

Clarke shook her head, holding back more tears. Bellamy wanted to pull her to his chest and hold her until she had no more reasons to cry. But the memories of their pasts were so cruel and triggering that he wasn’t sure if they’d ever run out of reasons to cry.

"He said ' _I don’t need you anymore_ '. And what happened after that, Clarke?"

Bellamy felt small and ashamed. He didn’t remember saying that. He didn’t remember being so mean to Clarke, he couldn’t even think of the possibility of saying something so unreal. His friends were witnesses to how much he needed Clarke; he couldn’t function properly if she wasn’t around.

"I'll tell you what you did," she continued, turning her shrewd eyes to Bellamy. "You tried to take your own life."

He looked at Clarke in bewilderment and anguish, but she didn’t return his gaze; her eyes seemed lost somewhere above Josephine's shoulders.

"No..." he whispered, unable to think of any other words.

"It wasn’t the first time. She almost went through with it during Praimfaya. She even had a farewell message to you."

Bellamy couldn’t take his eyes off of Clarke's face. Those revelations fell like a bomb over his head and he didn’t know how to deal with the grief and pain he felt; how could Clarke ever have thought of taking her own life when it was so precious to him? How much had she been hurt to even consider that alternative?

"Just stop," Clarke whispered. “ _Please._ ”

"I don’t think so," she said, and her movements were so fast that neither Bellamy nor Clarke were able stop her from taking their hands and pressing them against the wall, forcing them to relive that memory from Clarke's perspective.

Bellamy found himself in a room inside Sanctum. Clarke was holding a radio in her hand, panting. He heard Abby's voice muffled, coming from the device.

"Clarke? Clarke, can you hear me?"

"Mom? Are you ok?" Clarke asked, puzzled.

"Yes. Raven finally figured out the radios.”

“What happened?”

“I was so scared when you didn’t come back."

"Mom, it's not safe down here. The eclipse causes the plants to release a toxin that affects our nervous system."

Bellamy could feel the fear that overwhelmed Clarke in that moment, but his own sadness was mixed into that feeling, because he knew exactly what had happened during the eclipse. He knew what was coming.

"Toxin? Clarke, are you sure it's not just you?"

"No. No. It affects all of us. I mean, some of us worse than others."

"You don’t understand," Abby said. "I'm not saying you're imagining it. I'm saying the toxin is you. Think about it. No one is safe around you because the only people you won’t kill die anyway, trying to protect you. Your father died because he needed his little girl to know he was a good guy. Lexa died for the same reason. You infect people, Clarke, and Madi is next."

He wanted to leave that scenario, both because it was an invasion of Clarke's privacy, and because it was something painful that he didn’t want herto witness. Again.

"No. No. I won’t let that happen."

"There's only one way to stop it."

"How?"

"Take out the knife."

Bellamy swallowed hard, watching Clarke's trembling hand reach for the knife. God, how it hurt to watch her do that.

"Good. Now put it to your throat. If you're gone, she can’t die trying to save you. I'd do it for you. Maybe you don’t really love her."

" _I do_."

He felt the blade of the knife pressed against Clarke's throat as if it was his own. The desperation that ran through his body was unimaginable.

"That's it. You have to cut deep. Make sure you sever the carotid. Come on, Clarke. You can do this. I know I told you that there were no good guys, but we both know it was a lie to make you feel better. There are good guys, Clarke. You're just not one of them."

Suddenly he heard a noise. Clarke turned around and found Murphy's curious face.

"Well, look who I found." When he noticed Clarke's knife, he sighed. "Come on. Not you, too. Put the knife down, or I put one in your leg."

But Abby insisted on the radio.

"What are you waiting for, Clarke? Come on."

Murphy straightened up.

"Don’t make me do this. As much fun as it would be to shoot you, Bellamy would hear it."

Bellamy gritted his teeth. Knowing that he had been considered a danger to both his friends was terrible.

"Don’t listen to him. Cut deep. Do it now."

Murphy seemed to be frightened for a moment, believing that Clarke would really make the last move if he didn’t do anything to help her.

"Hey, hey, Clarke. Clarke, listen to me," he said, sounding oddly calm and slightly concerned. "You're speaking into a radio with the power off. See? There's no indicator light."

Bellamy knew the memory was coming to an end because he could feel he was coming back to reality, but Josephine's freakishly strong hand forced his over the wall again and he saw himself fighting Murphy near the lake. It was Clarke's perspective, she was hidden behind a wall a few feet away. Murphy was yelling at her, but Abby's voice still haunted her on the turned off radio.

"You're a cancer, Clarke, and you know what we do to cancer. Cut it out. You want to do better here, but you can’t. I will keep us safe. Now kill yourself. Put us out of our misery. Finish what you started."

He heard Clarke's voice in her memory, almost a cry.

"It's not real. It's not.”

"Finish what you started, Clarke. I will keep us safe. Do it. Do it. Safe. Do it."

"Shut up!" she shouted, beginning to walk toward Bellamy and Murphy, who were already inside the lake. He saw himself drowning his friend now.

"Do it."

"Shut up!"

"Do it!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

"How many times have you tried to kill me now?" he heard his own altered voice. He was walking toward Clarke now with a look of fury that he could never even imagine giving her. He felt his heart stopping as his hands motioned to her neck, but Clarke stabbed him in the thigh before he could do anything. She walked to the lake, but he could still hear himself saying "I'll kill you!"

It was almost comical. He would die before letting anything happen to her.

Clarke was pulling Murphy out of the lake and lying him down on the ground. But before she could make sure he was breathing, he pulled her back with a guttural scream that shook her. He threw her violently to the ground and held her down with his own body; his knees each side of her hips, hands clenching around her neck.

"Not this time. This time, you die, not me."

Bellamy was practically yanked from that memory when Josephine let go of his hand and Clarke's at the same time, and he realized he was suppressing a scream in his throat. The agony and anguish he felt at that moment didn’t live up to any of the things Clarke had felt that day. He looked to the side and saw her covering her face with her hands, shoulders shaking with endless sobs.

"If you want my opinion, _you're_ the cancer, Bellamy," Josephine said. And even though he knew she was right — and that her reasons for revealing what he already knew were completely distorted — he never wanted to kill someone as bad as he wanted to kill her right now.

That's why he lunged forward in quick movement, wrapping Josephine's thin neck with his hands. The girl struggled and tried to slap him, but nothing worked, because he couldn’t feel a thing. The adrenaline was too high. Clenching his teeth and squeezing the girl's throat as she stared at him with wide eyes filled with terror, Bellamy heard Clarke sobbing behind him. It was enough to make him stop, abruptly releasing Josephine; she panted, a loud and metallic noise, and put her hands around her neck as if to help the air through.

Bellamy turned to Clarke, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression and tears in her eyes.

"It’s no use," she whispered. "What she said is true, Bellamy. She can’t die."

"I don’t know about you, but I'm willing to bet on us."

She caught his gaze, wiping her face with the back of her hands.

"But not like that."

It took Bellamy a few seconds to understand what she was saying, but when he realized that the desperate sounds Josephine made in order to manage to breathe normally ceased, he finally did. Clarke didn’t want him to kill Josephine in the same way he had tried to kill her during the eclipse. His heart sank. He nodded slowly, glancing briefly at Josephine before doing the first thing he could think of: he grabbed Clarke's hand and ran out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

Clarke’s hand was warm under his, unlike how he'd felt it before entering her consciousness. She followed his quick steps promptly, indicating a left turn that led to a new corridor with a single door. He recognized it as the infamous door that floated the passengers of the Ark who transgressed a rule. He asked no questions; it was Clarke who was pulling him by the hand now, guiding him deftly through the scenarios that changed before his eyes as if he was trapped in a restless dream. Finally, she found a new door that looked a lot like the one in Shallow Valley. Clarke's house for six years.

She opened the door with a light kick and entered the house.

"Monty?" she called.

Bellamy looked around the room he hadn’t had much time to get to know; he wished he had spent more time there, wished he had heard Clarke telling him what he wasn’t able to hear in her messages, stories of her and Madi in that same place. He would have liked to have lived those stories.

"You know Monty, he's still trying to find a solution," a very familiar voice sounded through the room, causing Bellamy to search for its source. He smiled with tenderness and a feeling of longing that he knew very well.

"Harper!" Clarke exclaimed, letting go of Bellamy's hand to hug the girl.

"I see you're doing the right thing," she said, smiling at Clarke. Then her eyes fell on Bellamy. "I'd ask what you're doing here, but it doesn’t surprise me that it is _you_ finding a way to get into Clarke's mind."

Bellamy smiled and walked up to her, embracing her gently. He knew it wasn’t real, but still, it felt incredibly good to have a chance to hug her one last time. Harper had become part of his family, he considered her a younger sister. Not being able to see her growing old, having a life with Monty and playing with her son was sad.

"It's good to see you again too, Harper."

"We need to get to Josephine's mind, but she's probably after us."

Harper's eyes focused on Clarke's.

"You already know you’re in control here," she reminded her.

Clarke nodded.

"But there’s nothing I can do, Harper. She always comes back."

"But it always takes her an extra time to get back. And now you have backup," she added, looking at Bellamy with a knowing smile. "And, of course, the best warrior Skaikru’s ever had." She pointed at herself. "We just need weapons."

"I... I don’t think I can do this alone. It’s just… it’s been so hard."

"You won’t be alone," Bellamy reminded her. She stared at him with a vulnerability he had never seen in her eyes. Yes, sometimes she allowed him to see inside, to peek through the walls she tried to build, but he knew that his presence there — literally inside her mind — was invasive and left her completely exposed. There was nothing else she could hide from him now.

"Sometimes you just need to recruit more people," Harper said.

Clarke smiled slowly, eyes still wet. Maybe she was finally realizing there was a way out. Bellamy was sure she had settled for the fact that she would die there, with no chance of forgiving and loving herself; but now the hope was renewed within her and that was a sight to see.

"Okay," she said, nodding. Walking to the kitchen counter, she leaned over and closed her eyes. Bellamy and Harper stood beside her. “I’m in control here. So, if I just put my projections in front of every existent door inside my brain…”

“You’ll have a barricade,” Harper concluded, raising her hands and shrugging.

“She won’t be able to hurt you,” Bellamy added. "Every time Josephine tries to reach us, someone’s going to kill her."

"I'm loving this plan," Harper giggled. "You know how I feel about wars, but this is one that I'm dying to partake in."

Clarke turned to them both with a wide smile. Bellamy couldn’t help but feel amused by it, seeing the euphoria filling those eyes he adored so much. How long had it been since he last saw that? In those past few weeks, all Bellamy saw in Clarke's eyes was sadness and guilt.

"Harper, you stay in Sanctum. Monroe and Sterling will keep the other two doors. She’ll most likely look for me here first, so I need more people here."

Bellamy heard a noise and turned to the nearest window, through which he could see Monroe's light brown hair materializing. She was wearing the same clothes he remembered seeing her last in and armed with a heavy weapon. She saw him and waved; Bellamy felt his eyes burning with the tears he was trying to hold back. Would he see all the faces that once served alongside him?

She went on to cite the names of the people they once thought would be beside them right now; names that were part of the 100 — the 100 that became 4. Wells, Finn, Lincoln, Lexa, Jasper… all of them now serving one last time.

"This is a great plan," Harper approved, pulling a gun from her waist. Bellamy frowned, but then remembered that Clarke controlled everything. He would never stop thinking how surreal all of that was. "But you two also need to be armed."

Clarke nodded, and in the blink of an eye, Harper handed each of them a rifle.

"I'll miss it," Clarke said, letting out a low chuckle. "Everything in my reach."

Harper came over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Everything is within your reach, Clarke. Look at everything you've done. You saved so many lives."

"I also _took_ many," she argued, her smile fading away.

"We all took lives. It doesn’t make it any better or even right. But they didn’t give us a chance when they sent us to Earth, we were just kids. We did what we could with what we had. We saved as many people as possible. You and Bellamy led us, you helped us the best way you could’ve. Do not forget the faces that were lost halfway, but remember all you’ve done to honor them. _Live_ to honor them."

Bellamy could see Clarke trying to suppress the tears. He had so many things to say to her, but he would do it when she was back to reality, alive and by his side. Clarke hugged Harper and they both remained that way for a few seconds.

"Now go," Harper said, releasing her and patting her back. "You have a life to live on this new planet, a chance to make everything better. And you're going to be very happy, Clarke. _Very_."

Clarke smiled, a single tear escaping her eye.

"May we meet again," she said.

"May we meet again," Bellamy and Harper repeated, sharing a last smile before she led them to the front door of the house, so that Clarke could restart her fight for her own life.


	4. Chapter 4

He knew he needed to run like he’d never done before. Clarke's hand, still inside his, was a reminder that her life depended on him as well. And she didn’t have much time. However, as they passed the corridors and winding paths of Clarke's mind, familiar faces would greet him with a nod or a smile. Guarding one of the several doors through which they passed, he saw Jasper. From time to time, he would think about the unlikely friend he’d made and blame himself for not trying harder to change his mind when he decided to stay in Arkadia and take his own life.

Bellamy wanted to stop, talk to him and give him a last hug, but time was important and Jasper's friendly smile was enough to make him feel his heart lighter.

He saw Finn, the boy with whom he’d never had anything in common, but whose death had been unjust and devastating to Clarke. He saw Lincoln and Lexa. Even Roan was holding his sword in front of his chest with a haughty stance and a defiant look that he used to hate. But Clarke always saw a friend in him — for what was worth, he did help Clarke whenever she needed. In his own distorted way.

"Here," Clarke said, stopping suddenly in front of a red door decorated with a Christmas wreath.

Bellamy's free hand reached for the rifle strap that hung on his left shoulder, but he was stopped by Wells' hand, who silently approached them. He didn’t remember much about the boy who had once been Clarke's best friend, but he wished he’d had at least a friendly conversation with him before his death. If he was important to Clarke, Bellamy knew he would have liked him. If only he had given himself a chance to get to know Wells... But back then, he was too young and too stupid.

He felt Clarke's hand escape from his as she hugged Wells with such strength that the boy stumbled backwards.

"Wells!"

"My God, Clarke, a hundred and twenty-five years should’ve left you old and weak."

Clarke let out an almost childish laugh.

"I was guarding that door, but you already knew that ‘cause you are the one who orchestrated everything."

"Still, it's good to see you again."

"I was always sure we’d meet again. Not like this, but yeah."

She nodded, fighting back tears. Wells' eyes focused on Bellamy for the first time and he patted his shoulder.

"I knew you'd come."

"How?"

He shrugged, smiling.

"Clarke's faith in you is bigger than you realize."

And suddenly it dawned on him. He knew that was not the real Wells, though it was hard to remember that when the boy looked as alive as him. But no, Wells was part of Clarke's mind, he was her projection. Which meant that everything he said came from _Clarke's_ thoughts. That's what _she_ believed.

_I knew you’d come._

He turned to Clarke, who looked slightly embarrassed. It was so rare seeing her act in such a way that his eyes lingered longer than they should on her face. It was equally amazing and terrifying knowing that Clarke blindly put her trust in him.

"You don’t have much time," Wells said. "Monty is looking for the lever, but the sooner you find it, the better."

"Wells..."

The boy clutched Clarke's arms gently.

"I'll always be here, Clarke. All of us. We’ll always be with you. "

She nodded, hugging him for the last time. Bellamy averted his eyes for a moment, offering some privacy to his friends.

"Hey..." Wells said, making Bellamy look up. "Take care of each other."

He smiled.

"Always."

Clarke's blue eyes met Bellamy's, and he saw so much tenderness in them that it took him a moment to realize that they really should enter Josephine's mind before they ran out of time.

Wells opened the door and gestured for the two of them to enter; the moment the door closed again and he took a few seconds to absorb the particular space of Josephine's mind, the weight of that mission became almost unbearable. _That's it_ , he thought. _I'm one lever away from saving Clarke._

"Hey, guys, back there."

Bellamy turned to the opposite side, where Monty's unmistakable voice seemed to come from, and appreciated the nostalgic sensation that took over his body. He followed Clarke through the endless bookshelves that composed Josephine's mind, analyzing everything quickly. When Clarke turned a left, he caught himself smiling involuntarily at the sight of his old friend. Monty smiled too.

"So we meet again," he said.

Bellamy just hugged him, tapping him gently on on the back and struggling to swallow the lump in his throat. How badly he wished Monty and Harper were alive now. But part of him was happy to know that they had lived exactly the way they wanted. And now they had Jordan to keep the spirit of his friends alive.

"I found something," Monty said.

"The lever?"

"Well, no," he grimaced, looking a little uneasy. "Actually, I think the lever _might_ be there. I can’t access her memories, but ... "

"But what?" Clarke insisted.

Monty sighed.

"Josephine took one of your memories."

"What? How? Why?"

"I have no idea. I figured your brain is weaker now."

Bellamy felt his body tightening.

"We don’t have much time," he figured. Monty nodded.

"Where’s my memory?"

"Right there," he pointed at an old wooden door behind a bookshelf.

"That door wasn’t there before."

"No, but that's Josephine's mind, after all." Monty stepped back and nodded to both of them, an affectionate smile forming on his lips. "Now go. Be the good guys."

"May we meet again," Bellamy said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"May we meet again."

Clarke went to the door pointed out by Monty and opened it promptly; Bellamy followed, his eyes narrowing to the complete darkness of the place. A beam of light from the outside was the only source of light in that place.

"Close the door," she asked him, to which he obeyed.

The darkness engulfed them, and he felt the need to find Clarke's hand to make sure she was safe. But as soon as the door closed and the absolute silence became a little unnerving, the lights went on.

He saw Clarke groping one of the walls of the room. It was a bedroom. The walls were white and pink, decorated with pictures and posters. There was a sophisticated bed near one of the walls and a bookcase. A colorful lamp, a few cushions and fancy furniture. Things Bellamy had only seen in photos on the Ark.

A photo of Josephine's face was hanging above the bed.

"It's her room in Sanctum," Clarke confirmed, walking to a canvas in the center of the room. A can of paintbrushes laid on the floor and he noticed spots of paint all over the ivory carpet.

Clarke gasped and Bellamy looked up to see the black and white drawing in the center of Josephine's canvas. That drawing was Clarke's, he would recognize those lines anywhere. He still remembered the day when he asked her if he could see her drawings; Clarke was sitting near the gates of Arkadia, lost in thoughts. He came over and sat down beside her, noticing the sketchbook in her hands.

"Can I see it?"

Clarke looked at him with arched eyebrows, and when she understood what he meant, she looked down at the sketchbook, bashfully.

"Sorry, forget about it," he'd said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

She stared at him, shaking her head.

"No, it’s alright. It's just... I never show my drawings to anyone. It's something that... my dad taught me. He liked to draw."

Bellamy nodded slowly.

"A part of him that stayed with you."

Her eyes took on a different glow, which he had never seen before. It was almost as if she was stunned — as if she never thought he’d ever understand her so well up until that moment.

She nodded too, her eyes focusing on the sketchbook in her hands. She held it out to Bellamy, who looked at her reluctantly, as if asking, ' _are you sure?_ ' He knew that flipping through that sketchbook meant being the closest he could ever be to Clarke, seeing her weaknesses and vulnerability, seeing a part of her soul. And there she was, giving him permission as if he was worthy of it. Clarke stayed by his side as he studied the drawings, one by one. He saw the faces of their friends on those pages, the faces of her parents and the people she had lost along the way. He saw landscapes they had found on Earth, saw rivers, trees and mountains. And he also saw himself. Clarke represented him perfectly: she captured the determination in his eyes, the angles of his eyebrows, the scar above his lips, the freckles that complemented his face. It was like looking in a mirror. He remembered sliding his fingers over it, outlining the drawing of his jaw as she watched his profile restlessly.

"You're good," he said.

"Don’t say it like it's a surprise."

Bellamy laughed.

"You even drew my scar," he noticed, sliding his index finger across the scar above his lip. When Clarke didn’t reply, he turned to her. "You know... this scar is Octavia's fault," he said, trying to break the tension. It worked. Clarke looked at him curiously. "She was around ten. I’d just come back from class and she wanted to play. I said I couldn’t, because I needed to finish my homework, but she jumped on my back out of the blue and I lost my balance. I cut my lip on the edge of the table."

Clarke laughed under her breath.

"I was expecting something more..."

"Heroic?"

"Yeah."

Bellamy smiled, shrugging.

"It's heroic if you think about it," he said, grinning. He noticed that Clarke's eyes shifted to the scar, but she quickly looked away, watching Miller and Bryan talking on the other side of the camp.

"There's nothing heroic about hitting a table, Bellamy."

He laughed and she tried to hide her own smile. And as he returned her sketchbook, he thought there would never be another experience like that to get to know Clarke better. But infiltrating her mind, her memories, and even her feelings was so much deeper than that. It felt like too much exposure.

"Why would she take your memory?" he asked.

Clarke swallowed hard, staring at the picture. It was Bellamy's face, his eyes wet and his face distorted in anguish. He didn’t know what moment that countenance belonged to, but he was afraid to ask.

"Because she wanted to make sure I didn’t find what I wanted."

"The lever?"

"Yes. She’s smart."

"But why would that stop you from seeing this memory?"

She didn’t answer right away; his eyes were still glued to the monochromatic drawing on the canvas.

"Because that’s the memory I can’t face. It was hidden. I don’t know how she found it."

He didn’t know what to say. He knew there wasn’t much time left for them to stop Josephine from taking hold of that body and they should hurry, but he didn’t want to cross any boundaries.

"I'm back, bitches!"

 _You’ve got to be kidding me,_ he thought to himself as he turned to the half-open bedroom’s door. Josephine smiled sheepishly at them, her hands on her hips.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" Bellamy asked furiously, taking a step forward, but being stopped by Clarke’s hand on his arm.

"Shouldn’t _I_ be the one asking that? This is _my_ mind."

"And that's _my_ memory," Clarke retaliated, pointing at the canvas.

Josephine squinted, kicking the door shut behind her with her foot.

"You made a good plan, Clarke," she said, narrowing the distance between them. " _Kind of._ Your friend... what was his name again? The one you said you loved and then killed..." She frowned and snapped her fingers, as if trying to remember. "Oh, it's _Finn_. He really loses control with a gun, doesn’t he?"

"How did you manage to go through—"

"When I die, I go back to my mind," she cut her off. "Are you that clueless, Clarke? And Monty wasn’t armed, it was easy to knock him down. I’m getting tired of this. What are you gonna do? You can’t project anyone here, because this is _my_ mindspace."

"Josephine, why are you still trying?" Bellamy asked. "You know there's no way you can get out of this alive. If you get too close, I'll kill you again. And I will keep killing until you cease to exist."

"Ooh, that was profound." She laid her eyes on Clarke again. "I clearly underestimated you. I thought you wouldn’t dare revisit your worst memory. Did you think I wouldn’t find it? I already know you, Clarke. A few days in someone’s mind will do the trick. I just wanted to understand... why did you change your mind? You gave in. You gave in to me, you said you wanted to die. What changed? _Certainly_ not your reasons. You’re still a cancer, you keep ruining all your relationships and hurting the people you love—"

" _Why don’t you shut the fuck up?_ " Bellamy snapped, grabbing Josephine’s arm tightly.

"Bellamy!" Clarke called.

Josephine smiled mischievously.

"Aw, the good little knight by his queen's side."

He recognized that sentence. That was what Raven told him when she was possessed by Alie. Bellamy didn’t know that Clarke had heard that conversation.

"Never as devoted to Gina," she repeated, every word piercing Bellamy's heart just as they had the day Raven said them. "Never as devoted to _Echo_. Always to _Clarke_."

"Bellamy!" Clarke repeated, this time lower, and he released Josephine reluctantly only to feel his own heart beating uncontrollably. There was blood running down Clarke's nose. _Time’s running out._

"You have to go now, Clarke. I'll stay here to protect you."

"No, please..." she begged, wiping the blood on her sleeve. "I can’t do this alone. Not again."

 _Not again._ Damn, those words stung.

He looked at Josephine, who was watching everything with curiosity, and nodded to himself. He wouldn’t leave Clarke alone. With a quick movement that Josephine couldn’t have foreseen, he reached for the rifle on his shoulder and hit the girl's head with it. She groaned at the impact and staggered back, looking at him in disbelief.

"Gabriel loved you," he said, practically spitting the words out. "But you don’t know anything about love, do you?"

"I love him," she mumbled angrily, resting a hand over her head where he'd hit her. Bellamy took another step forward and she tried to kick him in the ribs, but he dodged just in time and forced her to walk backwards until her back met the wall.

"No, you don’t. You don’t love anyone."

"What?" She laughed, a nervous sound she tried to hide with a sigh. "You think you're better than me? Killing hundreds of innocent people to save the one you love? At least the people who died for me did it of their own free will."

"Clarke didn’t."

She glared at him and tried to kick his thigh. He dodged one more time. She had absolutely no training, there was no way she could even touch him.

 _There was no way she could even touch Clarke_.

"Why are you so obsessed with this bitch?"

He gritted his teeth, thinking about Gabriel for a moment. It was for the kindness of that stranger that he said the next words:

"I hope you can find peace, Josephine."

"Well... _I_ hope she dies."

Raising his rifle and aiming at Josephine's chest, Bellamy fired. The silence that followed that decision was almost deafening. Josephine's bloody body evaporated like smoke before it fell limp on the floor. Bellamy let go of his rifle, letting it hang on his shoulder, and looked at Clarke. She had no emotion on her face, safe from a single tear that rested on the corner of her nose.

"I'm sorry, Clarke."

"We have five minutes until she comes back," she said, simply. "Come on."

She reached for him. Bellamy didn’t hesitate before gently slipping her hand into his.

"Are you sure you want me to—"

"Yes."

He acquiesced and stretched his free hand to clean a bit of blood that still stained the skin above her lips. Her eyes searched for his, determined and slightly surprised. When he was finished, Clarke raised their joined hands and pressed them against the canvas, guiding them to her worst memory.

It took Bellamy a few seconds to find out where he was. This was Clarke's perspective, and all he could see was the long hall in front of him. _The bunker in Polis_. He could detect the nervousness and the pain that corroded her in that moment. And as Clarke opened a door and he saw himself inside the room, guarding Madi’s unresponsive body beside Gaia, he shuddered.

His own feelings mingled with Clarke's in the memory, and he didn’t know if he would be able to live through that again.

"Back away from the child now," someone said, and he saw Miller pointing a gun at him and Gaia.

Clarke's eyes focused on his, filled with tears. At that moment, Clarke's heart was pounding, perhaps more than his right now. He discerned the disappointment she felt when she looked at him and saw his own face writhing in pain. Bellamy remembered how small he felt that day. He knew she would never forgive him for what he’d done, but he wouldn’t have done anything differently. Perhaps he would’ve tried to argue and reason a bit more with her, but he had thought of millions ways to keep the peace and save his people. And none of those ways would keep Clarke alive. Except putting the flame in Madi’s head.

It had been a conscious decision. He used his head and his heart. He did what she told him to do. And he knew that Clarke would probably hate him for it, but he was willing to endure it if meant that she would get to live.

Clarke approached him and slapped his face. It had burned. But nothing hurt more than the way his heart ached at the sight of her glaring at him with so much anger. She had never looked at him that way, not even when they barely knew each other back on Earth and had a much less friendly relationship. She was the only one who always saw the good things in him. But now she was finally seeing the bad. _It shouldn’t hurt this much, this was bound to happen_ , is what he thought that day.

Soon, Clarke was running to Madi, but Gaia asked her not to remove the flame, otherwise the child might die. Octavia entered the room a moment later and he found himself staring at her with supplication in his eyes. She didn’t sympathize.

"Take them to the Rover. Go," she said.

Someone took Madi, but he was so hurt and astonished that he didn’t see who it was.

"Arrest the traitors."

He knew that Octavia would kill him, that he would be taken to the pit to fight for his life and that he would let himself be killed, but that was not what frightened him. It was the prospect of dying with both Clarke and Octavia hating him forever. He would die as a traitor to the people he loved the most.

"Bellamy," he heard Clarke calling out to him.

He frowned, because he remembered — specifically — that Clarke had passed him without saying anything after Madi had been taken.

When he looked away, he realized that it was not the Clarke from that memory that was speaking to him. He was so absorbed in her memory that he hadn’t realized the possibility of moving or speaking inside that parallel dimension; the real Clarke looked at him with distress and he gulped. Did she still hate him? Had she really forgiven him or had that been a lie she'd told him to convince herself it was true? If that was her worst memory, it was because Bellamy's betrayal still hurt.

But Clarke only pointed at an object behind the table where Madi was laying down; the memory had restarted. Somewhere behind them, Miller was telling them to step away from the child once again. Bellamy approached Clarke and saw the lever. He looked at her with a silent question in his eyes. She nodded. The mix of joy and sadness in her eyes made him reach for her.

"Together," he said.

She managed to smile.

"Together."

Covering her hand, he pulled the lever and the lights went out.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Bellamy heard was a soft hum. It was distant and slightly calming if you were to concentrate on the noise. Then the sound of many voices jostled; it was the verge Gabriel had mentioned earlier. Soon enough, he heard a low noise, as if someone had dragged a chair over a wooden floor.

_Gabriel._

He opened his eyes to the dimly lit shed. Blinking several times to get used to the new surroundings, Bellamy realized that it was already dark. Finally remembering the insanity of everything that had happened — he might never get used to that new planet, after all — he turned his face to the side, finding Clarke. Her eyes were still closed and Gabriel was standing beside her, wiping blood from her nose with a piece of cloth.

He sat on the improvised bed where they were both lying down, and Gabriel looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

"Clarke, is she..."

"Okay," he said, tossing the piece of bloody cloth into a garbage can that was beside the table. "Bleeding might happen when two people share the same space for a long time." Then, he smiled a little. "You did it."

Bellamy swallowed, his eyes shifting to Clarke's peaceful semblance. He wouldn’t allow himself to calm down until she woke up and told him that she was okay and that Josephine was no longer tormenting her.

"I did?"

"You wouldn’t have come back without my help and I’ve done absolutely nothing to bring you back. Which means you found the lever."

"Yes. But..." Bellamy shook his head and looked at Gabriel again. "Are you sure that was all?"

Gabriel smiled, seeming to be amused by the question.

"You should’ve asked me that before deciding to get into her mind, don’t you think?"

Bellamy shrugged, settling over the table to touch Clarke's shoulder.

"Normally, I wouldn’t believe the words of a stranger, but..."

"For her..." Gabriel filled out the blanks, forcing Bellamy to face him again. There was heartache in that man's eyes, but there was also love. Or maybe the pain of a _lost_ love.

"I told her that you loved her."

Gabriel caught Bellamy's gaze, nodding. Maybe it was his way of thanking him. Then he looked at Clarke and cleared his throat.

"How long have I been out?" he asked the other.

"About two hours."

"It felt like minutes."

"Yeah, time doesn’t really work the same way in there,” he explained, pointing at Clarke’s head. “And she might also take some time to wake up. She went through a lot of stress and her mind needs to rest." Looking up at Bellamy, he nodded to the door. "In the meantime, I think there's something you'd like to hear."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow curiously.

"What?"

"I heard your name being called outside. For a moment I thought it could be Octavia or one of your friends, so I went there for a minute. But the voice was coming from the radios. The person talking was referring to herself as Clarke. I connected the dots and..." He shrugged, letting the sentence be completed by three dots.

Bellamy felt his heart racing. _Could it be the Clarke’s calls?_ _All the calls he'd never heard?_ His eyes fell on her face again and her cheeks were slightly rosier than before. She was beginning to regain color, coming back to life. He fiddled with his fingers, wondering if he should touch her face just to be sure she was alright. Gabriel's eyes watched him like a hawk.

"I'll stay here monitoring her," he promised. "You can go outside. Follow the sound of her voice and when you find the device which it’s coming from, press the button on its side and the other voices will stop."

It took Bellamy a few seconds to look away from Clarke and nod, getting out of the bed with some difficulty. In Clarke's mind, he was in great shape; he wasn’t tired, he didn’t feel his legs hurting like hell. But the spot in his thigh where Clarke had stabbed him burned now. Slowly, he left the shed and walked toward the structure in the center of the garden. The volume of the voices was almost unbearable there and he felt the signs of a headache approaching, but kept looking for Clarke's voice. Part of him wondered if he should really listen to the messages without her knowing it; but if she had used the radio to communicate specifically with him, it was because she wanted him to hear it.

It was a little late, but he would _finally_ hear it.

"Here we go again," Clarke's unmistakable voice echoed somewhere on his left. Even in the middle of the cacophony, he could make out her low, husky voice. "Bellamy, if you can hear me, you're alive."

He put his ear to a device and confirmed the source of the voice. Grasping the object and pressing the button on its side, he was briefly startled by the abrupt manner in which all other voices fell silent. Now it was only Clarke.

"Where was I? Oh, right. Polis. Up until that moment, I believed I'd live in the bunker with the others, with my mom. I can’t bear the thought of leaving her down there, but the hard truth is, I could dig for years and never reach that door. I've been by myself now for two months, but this is the first time I feel alone."

Absentmindedly placing a hand over his chest, he tried to imagine Clarke's solitude. It was impossible. He had spent six years with his friends and she had spent six years alone — at least until she met Madi.

"It's like we were never here. Maybe we never should have been. How the hell am I gonna make it 5 years? I came to Arkadia looking for food or water, but all I found were ghosts. Part of me thinks that Jasper had the right idea. What's the point if all there is pain and suffering?" She let out a humorless laugh. "Real cheerful, Clarke. I'm sorry. Ignore me, okay? I haven’t had water in two days. I need to find some or I don’t think I'm gonna—"

A buzz cut the transmission and he forced himself to push away the images that popped into his head, completing Clarke's sentence. Was that the moment when she considered taking her own life? He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Anyway, I doubt you can hear me on this piece-of-crap radio. But in case this is the last time I get to do this, I just want to say... _please_ don’t feel bad about leaving me here. You did what you had to do. I'm proud of you."

 _I'm proud of you._ God, he could barely think with the whirl of emotions that overwhelmed him at that moment. He couldn’t remember anyone saying that to him at any point in his life. Not even Octavia. He never thought anyone could ever be proud of a nobody like him. And thinking that she wouldn’t survive, Clarke still wanted those to be her last words to him.

"I tell myself that every life I took was for a reason, but the truth is, the other side had reasons too. The Grounders, the Mountain Men, even Alie. Their reasons for wanting us dead were the same as ours. It was us or them, kill or be killed, simple as that. So, what now? What becomes of the Commander of Death when there's no one left to kill? I guess we'll find out because my fight is over. The question is, who am I now?"

He sighed, listening to parts of messages that told him of how she had found Shallow Valley. He could hear the hope implicit in her voice now, because he knew her inside and out. No wonder he had been suspicious of Josephine when Clarke started to act strangely. The others took longer to see something wrong in her eyes, in her smile and in the way she acted. But not him. He knew, even without knowing it.

"Wait until you see this place. It's like the death wave jumped over the entire valley. Unfortunately, the radiation didn’t. I've lost track of how many bodies we've burned since reaching the ground. God, this would be so much easier if I knew you were alive, if I knew I was going to see you again. Positive thoughts, Clarke."

He opened his eyes, a smile forming on his lips without him having any control over it. How many times had he thought the same thing in space? How everything would be much easier, how six years away from her would be much easier if he was sure he would see her again?

“Hey, Bellamy, someone wants to say hi.” He heard her laughing and then Madi’s childish voice was speaking into the radio. She sounded a lot younger than she was now.

“Hi, Bellamy. I’m Madi. Clarke told me _so many_ stories about you. My mom used to tell me stories too, but they were all about made-up people and none of them were as cool as you.”

“Madi says she’d choose you over any hero in all the stories she’s heard,” Clarke said.

“Thank you for keeping Clarke alive. You probably miss her, because she’s the best. But don’t worry, Clarke said you can come down in a year and then we’ll finally meet. You can be part of our family.”

He chuckled to himself, trying to picture Clarke telling Madi stories about him. When could he ever have thought that he was good enough to be the hero of a story? And suddenly, he wanted to know what stories she chose to tell, in which way she pictured him, in which way she saw him. Like her drawings, he wondered if her words were nearly as great. Was he worthy of that?

“Madi here. Clarke is still asleep and I’m sure she’ll talk to you later, but I needed to talk to you first. She thinks you can’t hear her, but she taught me to have hope. She said you were the one who taught her that. And I think that you can hear us, but you can’t reply. Well, if that’s the case… it’s been five years. You can come down now. We’ll have room for all of you, you can take my bed. Clarke misses you and I know I don’t even know you, but I miss you too. From all of her stories. It feels like I know you already. I can’t wait to meet you.” She paused for a brief moment and sighed. “Clarke cries when she thinks I’m asleep. I know she’s happy with me, but she needs you too. So, if you’re listening to this, _and I have to believe you are_ , come home.”

He let out a shaky breath. Even if he stood there for another hour, he wouldn’t be able to point out the emotions bursting inside his body. There were so many of them. _She needs you. Come home._ Were those words that Madi had heard from Clarke at some point? Had she ever considered that place she called home as _his_ as well? 

"It's been 2,199 days since Praimfaya. I don’t know why I still do this every day. Maybe it's my way of staying sane, not forgetting who I am. Who I was. It's been safe for you to come down for a year now. Why haven’t you?"

"Hey, Bellamy!"

He opened his eyes again. The sky was clearer, the glow of dawn was already beginning to appear on the horizon and he wondered how long he had been there. Gabriel called again and he released the device, wincing as the other voices came together, creating a deafening sound. Bellamy hurried toward the shed and stood in the doorway, feeling his heart stop for a second. Clarke was sitting on the wooden surface where she had been lying all night; her legs dangling from the edge of the bed, her head down. Gabriel gestured for him to approach and Bellamy didn’t breathe until he was sure she was breathing. It was so stupid. It was obvious she was breathing, but he couldn’t think coherently when her life was in danger. His personal record was proof of that.

Gabriel held out a bowl of water to Bellamy, who took it immediately. He stood facing Clarke and used his free hand to touch her chin, lifting her head up. Clarke moaned softly under her breath, her eyes still closed, as if it was a lazy morning and she didn’t want to wake up just yet. Bellamy gently cupped her face and brought the bowl of water to her lips. Clarke quickly drank the water, finally opening her eyes languorously. Gabriel took the bowl and walked away.

"Clarke?" Bellamy called, cautiously.

Clarke grumbled, running the tip of her tongue across her dry lips. Her eyes focused on his, and for a split second, her face showed no emotion. He felt the panic rising in his chest. Suddenly, he was convinced that this was Josephine trying to play with his feelings, about to say that everything had been in vain and that Clarke was dead. This time, for real. _Forever._

But then she blinked, the recognition becoming more evident as she began to smile while trying to suppress the urge to cry.

"Bellamy," she whispered.

He let out a low, involuntary laugh. It was so rare for him to feel this happy that the sound seemed strange. Clarke touched his face so naturally that his smile faded quickly. Her touch was warm and welcoming.

"My God, it's really you," she said, chuckling. "It worked?"

"It worked."

She chuckled again and the sound was so harmonious that he did the same. Clarke pulled him by the neck, hugging him tight. He rested his face on the crook of her neck, allowing himself to close his eyes and let the relief and joy run through his body. The feeling of knowing she was protected was simply indescribable, especially considering how many times they had been in danger over the last years. It was like fate hated them. But he would fight fate if he had to.

"I can’t believe it.” She adjusted her head over his shoulder, tightening her arms around him.

"I said you'd be fine."

"I know."

 _Clarke's faith in you is bigger than you realize_.

"Are you okay?" he asked, disengaging himself from her embrace and gently holding her elbows. Clarke nodded.

"My head hurts a little, but I'm fine."

"It's going to hurt for a little while," Gabriel confirmed.

Clarke looked at him as if she'd only noticed his presence at that moment.

"I take it you’re Gabriel?” she guessed.

“Yes.”

She smiled weakly.

"Thanks."

He just nodded.

"I have something that can help with your head. You both can stay here and rest while I go find it."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, you've had a long day. And I need some time alone. It’ll give you some time to prepare to get the chip out as well.”

"Can Josephine still hurt her?" Bellamy inquired.

"No. Her consciousness was shut down. She's... dead. For good." He gulped and shook his head. "I'm heading out. Get some rest."

"Could you... see if Octavia is alright?"

"I’ll make sure to check on her."

Bellamy nodded.

"Thank you."

"Octavia?" Clarke repeated as Gabriel left, leaving them alone.

The first rays of sunlight were already coming out, and they cast golden bundles of light on Clarke's face, making her look like an angelic supernatural being. Bellamy's eyes traced the delicate features of her face with tenderness.

"It's a long story."

"Is she okay?"

"As okay as one can be given the circumstances."

Clarke sighed.

"She's family, Bellamy. This won’t last forever."

He hoped she was right. But there was something about the way she'd said that sentence that left him uneasy.

"Clarke?"

"Hmm?"

He almost gave up, because her eyes were staring at him and he felt embarrassed. It was almost as if she could see his soul.

"What Josephine said—"

"Lies."

"No," he insisted, his hands sliding up from her elbows to her shoulders. "No, Clarke. It wasn’t a lie what she said about me."

"Bellamy—"

"Listen to me. What I said that day, before betraying you... that I was going to save my family... you got it all wrong. You _were_ always and _will_ always be my family, Clarke. It was you and me from the beginning. I should have said that when we talked in Sanctum. I wanted to say it, you caught me off guard."

She gulped, averting her eyes to look at something above his shoulders.

"It’s just that back then, I knew you would be safe and the rest of our family was in danger. Monty and Harper were also part of the family and I didn’t mention them. Because the others were in Shallow Valley, they could die. And God knows this was the only way to save them all. To save _you_. I considered every possible option, Clarke. All of them. And you wouldn’t end up alive in any of them. I made the only decision that could keep you from dying, I used my head and broke your trust."

She still wasn’t looking at him, but he could already see the tears glistening in her eyes.

"And I _know_ it wasn’t right, but what would I have done if... how would I... you had just come back. I couldn’t…"

But he never finished that sentence. No, he wasn’t good with words when he was on the spot and the ones he could form inside his head seemed too intimate to be spoken out loud.

"I just thought that having you hating me and alive was better than having you liking me and dead. And I can’t tell you I’m sorry, because I’d be lying. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Maybe I would’ve tried to reason with you more, but… I did what I had to. To keep you alive."

"But you hated me for it. You may have forgiven me now, but I left you—"

"No. _Never_. I was... _hurt_. I never hated you, Clarke, that’s humanly impossible. Let alone for leaving me. I thought _you_ hated me. And during all that time, I was thinking I'd die with both you and Octavia hating me. I’d die as a traitor to you."

Her eyes returned to his. He imagined that she could see all the pain he carried in his own eyes.

"And I know it still hurts you. It's your worst memory and I hate that I did it to you. Josephine was right."

"No, Bellamy. She wasn’t. That is not my worst memory because of what you did. It's my worst memory because of what _I_ did."

He opened his mouth to say something, but her words hit him like a bullet in the head and he just stared at her in disbelief.

"I can’t forgive myself for doing that to you. It's not your fault. Nothing that Josephine said was true, you were the reas—"

She interrupted herself abruptly, biting the inside of her cheek and averting her eyes to the side.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shook her head.

"Clarke, you can tell me anything."

"I’m sorry."

"Hey, you said yourself that we need to stop apologizing."

"I know..." She looked down at her hands and Bellamy noticed the pinkish line that circled her wrists. Her chains had hurt her during their trip.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Clarke laughed under her breath.

"Listen to your own advice, Bellamy."

"She was a handful."

Clarke looked up, studying his face closely.

"Did you sleep?"

"No. I mean... does being unconscious while wandering through your mind count as sleeping?"

"No."

"Then no."

"You need to sleep."

"I'll be fine. _You_ need to rest."

She laughed softly.

"What is it?"

"If I go to sleep, you go to sleep too," she replied. It had kind of become an inside joke between them. It was an allusion to what he had said when Arkadia still existed and she was making a list with a hundred names on it. _If I’m on that list, you’re on that list_.

Bellamy rolled his eyes and released her, sitting down beside her.

"I didn’t have my body kidnapped by a teenager psychopath."

"Hmm, that’s true. But you _have_ a wounded leg and we still have a long way to Sanctum. How _is_ your leg, by the way?"

"It's fine."

Clarke said nothing, but he could see her eyes probing his profile. The silence settled between them, but it was comfortable. He had never liked the silence, because it allowed his memories of the past — those he’d rather to forget — to emerge. But he had learned to like the silence when Clarke was around. It was natural, almost comforting, and none of his past ghosts dared to approach when she was beside him. But now all he wanted was to break the silence and ask the millions of questions that were going through his mind. However, he knew she needed to rest and that being bombarded with questions of what she most probably wanted to forget was the last thing she needed at that moment. All right, he had an eternity to ask questions. Because she was alive.

"You can ask me anything, you know?" she mumbled softly, out of the blue.

He turned his face to her; she was already looking at him with a half-smile.

"You're swinging your leg like you do when you want to say something," she remarked, pointing at Bellamy's left leg as it swayed involuntarily. He hadn’t realized.

"Oh..."

"So? Which one of the countless terrible things I've done is on your mind? Or better yet, which _ones_?"

He frowned.

"Clarke, what happened in there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you always seen yourself this way? In this twisted way? Or was it Josephine?"

Clarke looked away, scanning the basket of weapons Bellamy had seen before entering her mind. He noticed that she had started drumming her fingers on her thighs.

"There's nothing twisted about seeing myself as a monster."

He couldn’t believe that Clarke Griffin thought of herself that way. Maybe he was too biased to say so, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find any reason to support that statement. No, Clarke Griffin was anything but a monster. She was altruistic and kind. 

"Clarke, do you remember that day, when we found the guns in that bunker on Earth?"

She turned her eyes to him, confused.

"Yes."

"After Dax attacked us... I said something like that. I said I had become a monster. And you told me I was nothing of the sort. You _knew_ I had tried to kill Jaha, you _knew_ I had hurt people and yet... you still saw good things in me."

"It's not the same thing, Bellamy."

"You're right. It’s _not_. Because back then, _I_ had done wrong things for the wrong reasons. All _you_ did was save those you loved. And maybe our friends can’t see it right now, but you've been taking all the responsibility from the start and carrying that weight on your shoulders ever since. If you let me, Clarke... I can help carry this weight. We can share the pain."

Her eyes flashed with something he couldn’t make out, but they soon fell on her hands again.

"But you're _not_ a monster. And you don’t deserve to be martyred for choices that were thrown at you. Clarke, you saved the _goddamn world_. You saved our _friends_. You saved _me_. More times than you know."

He could see her chest rising and falling quicker than before.

"But we don’t need to talk about it now. You _really_ need to rest. Gabriel should take a while to get back and talking won’t help with your headache."

"When do we get back to Sanctum?"

He sighed.

"Echo said she’d find us."

"And what are we going to do?"

"I have no idea."

"Do you think Madi is okay?"

Bellamy gulped. When he left Sanctum, Madi had disappeared. He knew she wouldn’t be outside city limits, but he also knew of the commander's plans to avenge Clarke's death. He had asked Jackson, Miller and Jordan to find her. He hoped they had done it. Bellamy didn’t want to lie, but he knew that if he told her the truth, Clarke would run out of the shed without even blinking, and neither of them would be able to walk for hours right now.

"Yes. I left her with Jackson, Miller and Jordan. Gaia's watching her, too. She's safe."

Clarke sighed in relief.

"She'll be so happy to see you," he asserted, making Clarke smile. Then, she sighed again, settling on the bed.

"Let's get some sleep, we still have to come up with a plan and I need to be well to do this."

She laid down and Bellamy hesitated. It was one thing lying down by her side when she was unconscious, for the sole purpose of saving her life. But it was quite another thing to lie down by her side when she was awake and he had absolutely no control over his own heartbeat. Taking a deep breath, he laid down quietly, his hands crossed in front of his stomach and his eyes closed tightly. He hated himself when that happened: the sudden realization that she was too close, — and that that proximity controlled the basic functions of his body — the contempt he felt for himself when he remembered that he shouldn’t be feeling that way, because he had a girlfriend. And that was always the moment when his thoughts began to entangle in his mind until he couldn’t concentrate anymore.

Why was he feeling guilty if he wasn’t doing anything wrong? Why did he need to remember Echo as if he were cheating on her when Clarke was just a friend? Why did he feel embarrassed when he remembered what Josephine had said?

_You're in love with her._

No, he wasn’t in love. Clarke was just a part of him, from the start. She was the person he leaned on even when no one believed in him. She was the person who saw the light where he only saw darkness. She knew him more than he knew himself. Perhaps, he admitted, it was even a case of codependency. He knew he could lead without her being there, but he was sure he wouldn’t make the right decisions if she wasn’t around.

"Bellamy?" he heard her whispering next to his ear and struggled not to open her eyes. By the way her breath brushed his right cheek, Bellamy assumed she was lying on her side, staring at him. And that made him feel his stomach twisting. For six years, he'd forgotten that feeling. But it only took Clarke Griffin to be back into his life and there it was again: making him feel like a teenager.

"Hmm?"

"I can see the gears working inside your head."

He snorted, keeping his eyes closed.

"You could say that."

"How do you plan on sleeping like this?"

"That's what I've been doing... well, I don’t know for how long. More than a hundred years."

“That joke is getting old.”

“I like that joke.”

She chuckled.

"Do you wonder if we’re ever gonna live normally. You know, without anyone trying to kill us or make us go to war?"

He smiled weakly.

"Every day."

"Me too."

After that, she shut up and he wondered if she had chosen to be silent or if the sleepiness and weariness had taken over her. Gradually opening his eyes, Bellamy turned his face just enough to see her. He was right, she was lying on her side, her head resting on her folded arm and her hair covering her right shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be at peace. He even noticed the slight curve in the corners of her lips, a sign of relief and hope to him. Bellamy couldn’t tell exactly when his eyes stopped glancing at Clarke in order to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

He woke up with the sun rays casting beams of light on his face and making a red spot appear behind his closed eyelids. Bellamy frowned before opening his eyes and blinking continuously to get used to the light. That was when he realized that he had shifted his position on the uncomfortable improvised bed — not surprising, since he had a restless sleep — and was lying on his side, facing Clarke. His arm had fallen to the side, resting gently on her shoulder.

"Good morning," someone said, startling him. He moved his arm away from Clarke and looked up, where he saw Jackson wringing a wet cloth over a bowl and pressing it gently to Clarke's forehead. She was still asleep.

"What are you doing?" he inquired, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Gabriel said this would help her with the headache."

Bellamy sat down, turning to Jackson, who was now carefully sliding the cloth across Clarke's temples. She must’ve been very tired not to wake up with Jackson’s movements.

"How did you get here? How are the others? Is everyone alright? Madi? "

Jackson smiled, not taking his eyes off his work.

"We found Gabriel in the woods. He brought us here. When I left Sanctum, everyone was… alive."

"That's not what I asked."

"Murphy and Emori were locked up somewhere. They wouldn’t let us talk to them. Madi is also under supervision."

"Why?"

Jackson stopped moving and looked at Bellamy uneasily.

"Maybe we should talk about this later," he whispered, looking meaningfully at Clarke. Bellamy felt his stomach sink. If something had happened to Madi, he would never forgive himself. Neither would Clarke. "She also needs to know everything before we go."

"Who else came?"

"Just Echo. Nate stayed with Jordan."

"Why do I get the feeling that something’s happened?"

Jackson wet Clarke's forehead again, sighing.

"Jordan is hurt."

"What did they do?" he demanded harshly. Jordan was his responsibility now, just like Madi, and he had failed miserably. Just like he failed his sister before them.

"It wasn’t them. Actually, the Primes are taking care of him."

"Then…?"

"Bellamy... we'd better wait for Clarke, okay? Echo is out there, maybe you should talk to her."

"Why didn’t she come inside?"

He seemed uncomfortable with the question, almost as if he had prepared himself in case Bellamy asked it, but it hadn’t been enough. Clearing his throat, he shrugged.

"She came in, but... she saw you two were resting and left."

Bellamy sighed. He knew that Echo wouldn’t mention what had bothered her until he was well and rested, but that conversation would happen soon enough. And he was certain of what had made her avoid staying inside the shed, preferring the cold weather outside. Glancing one last time at Clarke, he stood up, being watched by Jackson's shrewd eyes. It was as if he was evaluating him. Or judging. Maybe both. He couldn’t tell. Bellamy noticed that his legs hurt even more than before when he tried to take the first step. He really needed to get back on the horse before his muscles got rusty. 

In less than a minute, he found Echo sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of Gabriel's shed, staring up at nothing. With some difficulty, he sat down beside her, waiting for her to look at him, which she did next. Echo had learned to hide her own emotions from a very young age, and most of the time, he couldn’t get past the barrier she had been building since her time in the Ice Nation. He couldn’t read her right now, but he knew what was bothering her because of what Jackson had said.

"Glad you're okay," he said, nudging her flexed knee with his own.

Echo nodded once, studying his face warily.

"You too."

"Why are you out here?"

"That thing makes a lot of noise," she said, referring to the verge. "And there’s more space to think here."

"Was that a pun on space?" he asked playfully, trying to break the tension that had clearly settled between them. Echo smiled weakly, but then shook her head.

"Is Josephine dead?"

"Yeah. Gabriel still needs to take the chip out. But the important thing is that Clarke's alive."

"Did you sleep?"

_There_ was the reason. She had seen him lying next to Clarke and was trying to pretend to be indifferent about it, though she couldn’t help but ask the question.

"I can’t even remember lying down," he lied, knowing that this was the best way to handle everything at the moment. "I was too tired. I was out in seconds."

"Gabriel said you needed to get inside her mind."

"Yes."

She was silent for a moment; Bellamy wanted to let her lead the conversation and waited until she spoke again.

"How was that?"

"Weird."

"Did you... have access to her memories?"

Bellamy swallowed hard, staring at the horizon. There was nothing but an endless row of trees.

"A few."

Echo adjusted herself beside him, moving away a little farther. He knew she recoiled when she felt trapped or irritated, it was something that only happened when he was around. She allowed herself to be more vulnerable with him. If it was someone else with her right now, he was sure she would’ve started a fight without hesitation.

"Echo..." he began, clearing his throat. "I needed to do this. _You_ told me to save her."

"I’m not saying anything, Bellamy."

"I know you. I know what you're thinking. It seems like we always go back to the same place."

" _You_ always go back to the same place," she retaliated, her voice distant, but not cold. "To the same _person_."

He felt terrible and small. Since the beginning of his relationship with Echo, Clarke had always been a delicate subject; a subject that was first brought up in space, soon after them deciding to date. Echo had found him in the monitoring room, staring out the glass window in anguish. He did it every day. He told himself that the more time passed, the less it would hurt. But soon he’d learn it wasn’t true, his longing seemed to intensify as time went by, his chest hurt even more when he thought of the years going by slowly, with no hopes of seeing Clarke again. Part of that anguish was also caused by being away from Octavia, but he knew she would be safe. More importantly, she would be alive.

Echo had approached him silently, resting a hand on his shoulder. Bellamy froze in place, his eyes glued to the colorless Earth. Echo's touch reminded him that he was trying to move on, but that made him feel guilty at the same time. As if he had no right to live his life when he had ended Clarke's; as if he couldn’t try to be happy, even against his own instincts, knowing that she should be there, in the same place, seeing the same planet spinning slowly through the window.

"You're gonna go mad."

He almost laughed. He was quite certain that he had already gone mad. From time to time, he had mental conversations with his friends, even those who had already died. He always imagined himself scolding Jasper when Harper put on a song and called everyone to dance, knowing that his friend would try to sneak in alcohol to make it more fun; he imagined the way Lincoln would tease him about his resistance when he trained with Echo and Raven; he wondered how Abby would’ve reacted if she'd seen Monty do CPR on Murphy when he went into a coma after eating algae. Most of all, he imagined, _all the time_ , that Clarke was right next to him, laughing at his failed attempts to lead that small group of people and advising him for the hundredth time to use both his head and his heart.

"I’m fine."

"You need to let her go eventually, you know?"

He held his breath.

"Clarke," she continued, even though he knew who she was talking about. "She's gone, Bellamy. You have to accept this and move on."

"I _am_ moving on," he replied, coldly. He didn’t mean to sound so rude, but his voice rose involuntarily and he felt obliged to look at her gently. "I'm just watching."

She didn’t answer, but her skeptical countenance was revealing. Bellamy shook his head.

"Are you still worried I'm gonna put one in my head?"

Echo's eyes widened in surprise.

"What?"

"What Murphy said when we arrived in space. I heard that. He said I was probably gonna kill myself and Raven hid all the weapons on the ring as if I were a child."

"Bellamy..."

"I'm _fine_ ," he repeated. "I just need some time."

That sentence was ambiguous and he knew it. He needed some time for himself, sure, but he also needed more time to accept the fact that Clarke would never come back. Except he _couldn’t_ accept that because the very thought of doing so was disconcerting to him. If three years hadn't been enough to stop the hurting, how could he last three more? Five more? Ten more? A lifetime?

Ever since, Echo had tried to make him acknowledge Clarke's death and drive her away from his thoughts. Deep down, he knew she was right and that this would be the natural and healthy process for any human being who had suffered a loss. But it also made him angry that she would even _suggest_ that he should let Clarke go. Because he _couldn’t_. And now he believed that part of that incapacity was due to the fact that he knew, somehow, that there was still hope. It all came true the moment Madi mentioned Clarke's name. He almost laughed thinking about that moment; it was just another example of his uncommon reliance on strangers when it came to Clarke's life. Roan, Madi, Gabriel...

"Clarke’s my family too, Echo. You know that. I'll always care ab—"

"Bellamy, I really don’t want to discuss any of this right now."

"Okay."

They both turned their heads at the same time when they heard footsteps and stood up to walk around the shed to see Gabriel approaching with a vial between his hands. He stopped to talk to them.

"I brought this to help with the pain of the chip’s removal," he explained, raising the vial filled with a transparent thick liquid. Looking at Bellamy, he nodded to the door. "It’s best if you’re by her side when I do the procedure. She's going to need support."

He nodded.

"And Octavia?"

"I brought her food. Still no sign of Diyoza, though. I couldn’t get her out of there."

"Well... that’s my sister."

"Maybe you can convince her."

"Hardly."

Gabriel gave Bellamy a sad smile and entered the shed.

"Go. I'll stay here," Echo affirmed.

Bellamy stared at her, studying her face calmly. She was tense, and although her eyes didn’t stray from his, he knew her determination was faked.

"You should come in. It's cold out here."

"I'm an _Azgeda_ , Bellamy. I’ll be fine."

"I thought you were Spacekru."

"Spacekru consisted of Harper, Monty, Emori, Murphy, Raven, you and me."

He suppressed a sigh; arguing with Echo would only make it all the more difficult and they needed to be united if they wanted to return to Sanctum with a good plan and the necessary strength to help their friends.

"Okay," he agreed, turning to go inside.

Jackson and Gabriel were standing in front of the bed, helping Clarke sit up. Bellamy hurried to her side and she looked up at him with a joking smile.

"I can never catch a break.”

Bellamy smiled, sitting down beside her while Jackson asked her to lower her head so they could have a better view of the back of her neck.

"Where were you?" she asked, pulling her hair to her right shoulder. Gabriel pressed a finger to the back of her head and she hissed. It hasn’t been too long since her skin had been cut to make room for Josephine's mind. He tried to imagine the pain she would feel when Jackson cut her in the same place without the advantage of anesthesia.

"Outside. With Echo."

"Oh... is she okay?"

"Yes."

"And the others? Did Echo say something? I already asked Jackson, but he won’t tell me anything."

"They’re okay. We'll talk more about everything when this chip is out, okay?"

"Okay."

" _Okay?_ " Jackson mimicked her, pretending to be offended. "You threatened me with a knife when I said I wouldn’t say anything until you were free from the chip and to Bellamy you just say ' _okay_ '?"

Clarke chuckled.

"It's easier to scare you, Jackson."

“You’re just like Abby.”

“Did my mom ever threaten you with a scalpel?”

“Not so blatantly. But she can be scary,” he laughed.

"Here," Gabriel said, sliding a finger over Clarke's neck. She shuddered. "Clarke, I'm using a bit of sephaene sap. It has healing properties and can act as an anesthetic. It won’t completely inhibit the pain, but it’ll help a little."

"This is the most positive news I’ve received today."

"I mean... you're _alive_ ," Jackson commented, making her smile again.

"Ready when you are," Gabriel said.

Clarke's hand groped blindly for Bellamy's, and he squeezed it gently. Her fingers curled up around the palm of his hand tightly. It made him think of what people usually saw in Clarke: a fearless girl who defied everything and everyone. But he knew the truth: she was afraid. But her courage was greater than anything.

"I'm ready." 

*** 

"I know I should be used to it by now, but the pain sucks," Clarke mentioned a few minutes after Gabriel had finished the procedure.

She hadn’t said anything, nor screamed when Jackson began sewing the cut, but the clenched teeth and painful grip on Bellamy's hand were enough to let him know that Gabriel's miracle sap didn’t help much. He also didn’t say anything as the minutes passed; her hand still clutched at his, only now lightly. She didn’t need it for support anymore, but he wouldn’t be the one mentioning it.

"I'm sorry."

She lifted her head slowly, hissing with pain until she was able to look at him. Jackson and Gabriel were talking quietly on the other side of the room; apparently, Gabriel was showing the other some sort of unknown plant with healing properties.

"I had to suture my own leg in Shallow Valley, Bellamy. A little pain won’t kill me."

He remembered that story. Bellamy was sure she would never have told him that story willingly. He only knew it because he noticed the obvious scar on Clarke's left ankle one day, when she pulled the leg of her pants up to adjust her sock.

"Is it over?"

He turned his face to the source of the voice; Echo was standing at the door, arms crossed. Her eyes shifted to their joined hands and Bellamy didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to let go of Clarke’s hand after what she had just been through, but he didn’t want to hurt Echo either. It seemed that he was always in the midst of dilemmas like that one. Clarke solved that dilemma for him, though, gently pulling her own hand from his and looking at Echo.

"Yes. We can go now," she affirmed, making a move to get up. Bellamy stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and she turned to him in confusion.

"You just got a damn chip out of your head."

"And now I'm going back to Sanctum to help our friends."

He sighed. If he didn’t know he was just as obnoxious when it came to trying to save people’s lives, he would’ve scolded her. But he was thinking the same thing. Only he was a little more worried about her health now.

"You'll want to know how our friends and enemies are before doing anything stupid," Echo stated, advancing a few steps toward them. Bellamy stood up.

"What do you mean?" Clarke asked.

Jackson interrupted his own conversation with Gabriel and turned around immediately, alarmed. Bellamy noticed that wasn’t a good sign.

"Echo, _what do you mean_?" she insisted.

Echo pressed her lips together in a straight line and sighed.

"Murphy and Emori were taken away by the Primes. They're fine, Murphy was bleeding, but they told me they'll take care of him."

"And Madi?" Clarke demanded, nervously.

Echo looked at Bellamy for a second and then at Jackson.

"Madi is under observation," she revealed.

Clarke's eyes widened, the panic causing her breath to quicken.

" _Why_?"

Echo hesitated.

"She… attacked two of the Primes. And Jordan."

" _What_?" Clarke and Bellamy asked in unison, confused.

"Actually,” Jackson chimed in, “Jordan saw her with a knife and tried to stop her from attacking Dalilah. But Madi ended up falling and… stabbing Jordan."

" _Oh, my God!_ " Clarke exclaimed, hiding her face in her hands and moaning softly when the pain at the back of her neck hit her. “Oh, God. No…”

"But she's okay. And Jordan is being taken care of," Jackson assured them.

Clarke lowered her hands and frowned at him.

"How do you know that? How did they let you out? How did you get this information? I don’t understand."

"Russell let us out to send a message," Echo replied. "He will agree to negotiate. Only with Clarke."

" _Negotiate_?" Bellamy chuckled humorlessly. "If he thinks we'll leave it at that..."

“Wait, how do we know he’s not lying?” Clarke asked Echo.

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” she revealed. “For all they know, Bellamy could’ve gotten one of the Children of Gabriel to help you and taken the chip already.”

“It _is_ weird that they let us go just like that,” Jackson agreed.

“Do you think they’re coming for me?” Clarke looked between them both, waiting for an answer that they didn’t have. “What will they do?”

“I don’t know,” Echo said, seeming genuinely sorry. “But we don’t have that much of a choice, do we?”

Bellamy shifted his feet uneasily.

“We’re _not_ leading Clarke to an ambush.”

Echo looked at him in disbelief.

“ _She’s_ the one who’s safe here, Bellamy. If they think she’s Josephine, nothing will happen to her. _We_ will be the ones they’ll be hunting.”

“Then that’s what we’ll use,” Clarke decided. “When they get to me, I’ll pretend to be Josephine.”

“And then what? We _die_ for you?” Echo replied with exaggerated irony.

“And then I’ll find a way to keep you all safe.”

“Clarke…” Bellamy looked at her disapprovingly, receiving a determined glance back. “You can’t risk your life like that.”

_I just got you back._ The words were suffocated in his throat, but for a moment, he was afraid he'd somehow said them out loud because Echo was looking at him as if he’d just said the most absurd think she could think of.

“ _All_ we’ve done so far is risk _our_ lives for her.”

“Echo’s right,” Clarke agreed. “You guys are at risk just by being here. Even Gabriel. And I can’t ask more than that. _If_ their plan is to take Josephine back, I’ll think of something to keep you alive long enough for us to get inside Sanctum, get our friends and head back to the ship. We can’t stay here anymore.” She shook her head subtly, still looking at Bellamy when she said: “I won’t let you die.”

He gulped, feeling the weight of those words. He’d said the same to her before and he succeeded. For a moment, he thought it was all over. But he should’ve known better than to expect things to be normal again. _When was it ever normal?_ Maybe he just wanted a break; a break from trying to avoid being killed, from putting their friends in danger, from trying to save the world, from trying to keep Clarke from being taken away from him. Her eyes were assuring, convincing… he knew he would follow her anywhere, no matter how much he hated her plan, because he trusted her.

Echo cleared her throat and he stepped out of the trance he’d been caught in while staring at Clarke. _God, I hate myself._ He didn’t want Echo to feel bad, he cared about her too much for that. 

" _If,_ by any chance, Russell is telling the truth…”

“Then we need to hear him out first," Clarke said. "I'm not gonna let it slide, but it's no use marching to Sanctum asking for everyone's heads without thinking clearly, listening to everything Russell has to say."

"Did I just hear something about asking for people's heads?"

They all turned to the small yet powerful figure of Octavia, who watched them with a mixture of curiosity and interest. Bellamy harbored the sense of relief that consumed him by seeing her well and healthy.

"O, are you okay?"

She lifted her chin, as if looking down on him.

"I'm tired and I want to stab something. Or _someone_. My weapons are here, so…"

He didn’t know at what point the Octavia who ran after butterflies and kissed boys when Bellamy wasn’t looking had become a warrior thirsty for blood. Perhaps the hallucination he had earlier revealed the truth: it was _his_ fault. _My sister, my responsibility._ He left her aside, betrayed her, poisoned her and left her alone in the woods. He helped Pike killing hundreds of innocents, and even though Clarke had told him countless times that Lincoln's blood wasn’t in his hands, he still felt the dirt impregnated on his skin. It was as if the bullet that had pierced his grounder friend's head had been shot by his own gun.

Octavia looked at Clarke, almost emotionless.

"I thought you were dead."

Bellamy saw the way Clarke frowned, her lips slightly curled down in sadness. He knew that Octavia still had negative feelings for her, as well as for him, but he also knew that his sister was only trying to hurt Clarke, to push her away as much as possible. Because he'd heard what she'd told Gabriel the day before, all the good things she had to say about her. He could hear the concern implicit in her voice.

"Did you kill the bitch that was in her mind?" she asked, glancing sideways at Gabriel. “No offense. Actually, scratch that. She _was_ a bitch.”

"Josephine is gone," Bellamy replied when he realized no one was motioning to answer her. Gabriel stared at her with an unreadable expression, Clarke was still processing her unexpected appearance, Echo and Jackson were looking at the walls, pretending not to be a part of that conversation.

"Hmm... I should’ve known you’d find a way to kill someone who messed with Clarke. You tried to do it to your own sister, let alone to a teenage psycho with a god complex."

"Octavia, you have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Maybe we should leave the bickering for later," Echo suggested, looking at Octavia with piercing eyes. "Why are you here?"

"It's none of your business, _spy_. But Diyoza is not making any sense and I _really_ need a place to rest." She rolled her eyes. “Not that this hellhole is any better than the ground.”

"Wait, _where_ is Diyoza?" Gabriel asked, approaching her eagerly. “Did she come out?”

"Yes. Apparently, we’re your miracles. Great day for you, isn’t it?”

“Where is she?”

“Sitting outside. I had to drag her through the woods, it seems the anomaly wasn’t so good to her."

Gabriel straightened up and headed outside without saying another word.

"Anomaly?" Echo asked, frowning.

"Big green shining thing in the woods.”

Echo shook her head and looked back at Clarke. 

"Well, assuming Russell’s words were true, he told his people not to attack us when we get to Sanctum."

Octavia let out a low laugh.

"How generous of him."

Bellamy silently agreed with her. Perhaps his sister's methods were unorthodox, but he couldn’t be a hypocrite: he wanted to use these same methods on the Primes.

"Believe me," Echo said, "I had to bite my tongue not to put my knife to his throat."

"Huh," Octavia crossed her arms, scrutinizing Echo with a sneer. "Who would’ve thought? The spy defending the life of the traitor whom her boyfriend can’t live without. That’s poetic."

" _Octavia, enough!_ " Bellamy raised his voice, looking at her reproachfully. She clenched her jaw.

"Who do _you_ think you are to give me orders?"

"Echo is not the one to blame here, your problem is with _me_. So, if you want to help us, you’re welcome to stay. But if you don’t..."

"I _really_ don’t."

"Then why are you here?"

Octavia sighed.

"Russell didn’t just try to kill Clarke. He took the lives of several innocent people, you don’t know half of the stories Gabriel told me. I want to kill him for what he did to everyone else. He deserves to die."

"Octavia..." Clarke called to her softly, making Octavia turn to her with raised eyebrows, as if defying her. "If we want a chance to live, we can’t kill the person who is willing to negotiate."

"I'm having a _déjà vu_. Shallow Valley. You two betraying me," she pointed at Clarke and her brother, "ruining my plan to take the only available place on Earth. Sounds familiar? Are we going to make the same mistakes?"

"As much as I hate it, Clarke is right," Echo said. "I would love to kill Russell. But this is not the Earth. It's not Shallow Valley. We don't have an army."

“Well, let’s say they get Clarke, thinking she’s Josephine,” Octavia played along. “How do you stall those fanatic people long enough for us to free our people and then somehow make a run for the ship without anyone noticing? Also, should I remind you all that the ship isn’t even on the ground?”

Bellamy clung to the word she had used in the middle of that sentence. Maybe it went unnoticed to everyone else, but not to him. _Us._ Long enough for _us_ to free _our_ people _._ She was including herself in the mission, thinking of the people she claimed not to be hers.

“It isn’t?” Clarke asked, puzzled.

“No. I don’t know why, though, ‘cause I was kicked out before it happened.”

“Well, then I’ll just have to ask them to come down. Russell won’t say no to Josephine.”

“Okay, but why would you plead for our lives if you were Josephine?” Jackson wondered. “I mean… if you ask them not to harm us, it’ll sound suspicious.”

She gulped.

“Back in Sanctum, when Josephine was sharing my body, Russell didn’t want to go through with it. He said they could find another nightblood and she could release me. Which means some part of him felt for me, he knew this was wrong. When Josephine asked me to give up, I told her to take care of you, not let anything happen to all of you. Now, if I tell Russell that… well, _Clarke_ gave up her body, but asked Josephine to keep you all alive, I think he’ll listen.”

The silence was almost deafening when she stopped talking. Bellamy could sense, without even looking away from Clarke, that they were all stunned. None of them expected Clarke to care about them enough to think about them when she was about to die. To think about their safety.

“Do you really think that’ll work?” Echo asked in a low voice.

“Forget _that._ ” Octavia took a step forward and looked at Clarke skeptically. “Are you really letting him go if this works? Russell _took your body without your permission_.”

“I know. But I’m done. I just want to get Madi and our friends out of there and _live._ ”

Octavia snorted.

"I should’ve known you'd still be cowards." she said, rolling her eyes. "I'll find Diyoza."

She left quickly, leaving the three of them behind. Jackson stepped up.

"We should leave now if we want to get there before nightfall."

Everyone nodded and Bellamy turned to Clarke.

“Are you sure about this, Clarke?”

“Yes. I’m sure. Don’t worry about me.”

_Have you met me?_ , he thought to himself. Honestly, he thought that at least fifty percent of his day consisted of him worrying about her life, which always seemed to be at stake.

"Do you think you can make the journey?"

"Do you think _you_ can make the journey?" she shot back, nodding to his leg.

"A hundred years will leave someone rusty."

He was right, that sentence made Clarke smile.

"I'll get the EMP," Echo said, stepping out of the shed before Bellamy could say anything.

Jackson rummaged through his backpack. Grabbing two small packs of ration, he handed them to Bellamy and Clarke.

"You should eat something."

They opened the small package and devoured their rations in less than a minute. Soon they were outside, stepping away from the radios that buzzed with overlapped voices. As they walked toward Gabriel, Octavia and Diyoza — who were standing a few feet away from them — Bellamy was listening for Clarke’s voice, but he couldn’t hear it. Maybe the messages stopped playing once one listened to them?

"Hey, we're ready!" Echo announced once they approached the others. Octavia was helping Diyoza up, the latter sliding her hands over her bulging belly.

"Are you okay?" Jackson asked her.

"Yes, doc number two,” she flashed him a playful smile, but it didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “Baby’s fine too.”

“She's not making any sense,” Octavia said.

"Does this have to do with that weird thing that made us hallucinate on the way here?" Echo asked.

"Yes, the anomaly," Gabriel confirmed.

"Can anyone explain to me what the hell that is?" Clarke looked at Gabriel.

"It's hard to explain. Actually, I couldn’t tell. There are many strange and unknown things about the anomaly. One is those hallucinations. If you don’t look at them and focus on the path, nothing will happen. You have to remember it’s not real. When you pass through this part of the woods, you’ll either see your biggest fear or deepest desire. Maybe both. Don’t walk towards the green light no matter what happens."

“Been there, don’t recommend it,” Diyoza added.

They all looked at her and Bellamy heard Jackson inquiring about what she had seen inside the anomaly. But his own eyes were lost somewhere in the woods as Gabriel's words echoed through his mind. _Your greatest fear or deepest desire_. Was that what he had witnessed before finding Gabriel and Octavia? And what did that say about him?

If he took into account what he’d seen, his greatest fear was seeing Clarke and his sister hurt, both blaming him for everything. He already knew that. He didn’t need a supernatural anomaly to figure that much. His deepest desire? For Octavia to forgive him, to still love him.

But what about Clarke? He knew he wanted her to care about him as much as he cared about her; he was afraid that one day she would realize that he wasn’t worthy of her affection and that she should leave him. But deepest desire? Bellamy didn’t know how to face that realization, at least not at that moment, with several eyes glued to his face — including his girlfriend’s.

"Bellamy?" she called out. "Are you sure you can walk? You don’t look so well."

He looked up at Echo; the genuine concern in her voice making him cringe. Did he deserve to have her worrying about him? Especially when he couldn’t stop thinking about—

"Clarke?"

It was Jackson. He'd wrapped his arm around Clarke’s waist, steadying her body. Bellamy turned to her immediately, placing a hand on her shoulder, his heart suddenly racing with rising panic. Clarke seemed to be fighting her own body so it wouldn’t fall limp on the floor.

" _Clearly_ , Wanheda is not well enough for the mission," Octavia pointed out.

"I'm fine," Clarke said, but her voice was weak, almost a whisper.

“ _You said she’d be fine after resting_ ,” Bellamy accused Gabriel with fire in his eyes. He didn’t know where that rage had come from, but maybe it was a consequence of his fear. His deepest fear. _Clarke hurt. Clarke dying._

“She _is_ fine,” Gabriel promised him, extremely collected. “Her body just didn’t have enough time to compensate what it’s been through.”

"We need to leave as soon as possible," Echo recalled.

"I'll carry her," Bellamy volunteered. Clarke shook her head as he drew closer.

"You're _hurt_ , Bellamy," Echo said irritably.

"I'll do it," Gabriel said.

"Are you going with them?" Octavia asked, surprised.

"Yes."

"They'll _kill_ you."

"And _why_ do you care about that?"

Octavia lifted her chin up like she did when she was feeling trapped, but wanted to hide it.

"I _don’t_. I just didn’t think you were stupid."

"You both should come. There’s nothing in the woods for you.”

Diyoza snorted.

"Octavia had to drag me here, doc. I'm not sure that a hike with friends is the best idea right now. Just leave me here for now."

"I'll stay with her," Octavia announced.

"It's your choice." Gabriel shrugged, approaching Clarke to pick her up. She buried her face in his left shoulder and closed her eyes. Bellamy also closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the pain of having to leave his sister once again. He looked at Octavia, who was already staring at him.

"O, come with us. _Please_."

He saw the sparkle in her eyes. He knew it. It was the same sparkle she had when they were kids and he used to ignore their mother, who expressly forbid them to play after ten o'clock, and play hide-and-seek until she was back from work. It was the sparkle of uncertainty, of dilemma, of a slight inclination to say yes.

"No."

He swallowed hard.

"I need... I need to talk to you."

" _Now_ you want to talk, big brother? I had some time to talk before you kicked me out of the ship. Now my schedule is a little full."

"Hey, Octavia," Diyoza said, approaching her to whisper in her ear.

Bellamy shifted uncomfortably in his place, taking the opportunity to check Clarke's condition on Gabriel's arms. She'd wrapped an arm around his neck, but her hand was limp. She was unconscious. _She is alive_ , he had to remind himself before going mad again.

Octavia sighed loudly, drawing his attention.

"Lead the way," she told Gabriel. "Don’t wait for us. She will only hold you back."

"Aww, we _are_ like an old married couple," Diyoza quipped, tapping Octavia on the shoulder.

Bellamy was content with that. He didn’t know what Diyoza had said to his sister, but he was relieved to have her back. He wouldn’t try to talk or approach her now. No, he knew she needed time and space. But as soon as it was over and Clarke and his people were safe, he would sit down to talk to her like old times.

"Sorry I snapped before. Is she going to be okay?" Bellamy asked Gabriel, following his steps. His legs hurt, but he would get used to it soon enough. Echo and Jackson followed behind, while Octavia and Diyoza stayed back, walking at a slow pace.

"Yes. Like I said, the body needs time to recharge."

He nodded, though Gabriel hadn’t seen it. Lowering his head to avoid a branch, Bellamy cleared his throat.

"What are you going to do when you get to Sanctum? I don’t think Russell will welcome you with open arms."

"No, he won’t. But if your plan goes to hell, this will be your peace offering."

"What do you mean?"

"Russell doesn’t know I’m alive. But he wants the leader of the Children of Gabriel. He wants _me_. Which makes me a great bargaining chip."

"Why would you do that?" Echo asked. He hadn’t realized she and Jackson were closer now.

"Because it’s time to end the worshiping of false gods, the murdering of people. I'm part of this. I've lived enough at the expense of innocent lives. I don’t want this anymore. I’ve done bad things for… love."

The image of Clarke’s face staring at Bellamy when he betrayed her in Polis came across his mind and he forcefully shook it away. That wasn’t something he was ready to face right now. He’d done bad things in his life, but the things he did for Clarke… they never seemed bad to him. Those things were necessary. And if they ended up with Clarke being alive, how could they be anything but good? 

Bellamy didn’t know what to say to Gabriel. Surely, they were not friends or close enough for him to try to persuade him into not doing that. In fact, that plan benefited all of them. But still, he didn’t want the stranger who saved Clarke's life to sacrifice himself for them. So, he decided to say something more positive:

"We'll find another way."

He saw Gabriel smirk, almost as if Bellamy's belief was naive.

"I still haven’t thanked you for what you did," he continued.

Gabriel shook his head.

"I did the right thing this time."

"Nevertheless."

"Don’t worry."

They moved along in silence. From time to time, Jackson would ask Gabriel a question and Bellamy would turn around to make sure that Octavia was still following them. He tried to start a conversation with Echo at one point, but she only replied with monosyllables and he took the hint. Fighting the pain in his right leg, Bellamy found strength in the accomplishment of his goal. Clarke was alive and they were going to find another home.

They hadn’t gone far when Clarke started to sob abruptly.

"No, no... let me go," she said, practically jumping from Gabriel’s arms and walking a few steps before kneeling down on the floor. “No, don’t… _Please._ Hold on... _please._ "

"Mom?" Jackson said right behind him. When Bellamy turned around, he realized that both Jackson and Echo seemed to be in a trance, seeing something he couldn’t see. He remembered that Jackson's mother had died a long time ago.

Gabriel spoke up.

"Hey! Hey! It’s _not_ real."

"Bell," Octavia's voice called out. But it sounded muffled, distant, just as it'd sounded during his first hallucination. He refused to pay attention. "I love you, big brother. You know that. I could never hate you."

"I _love_ you," another voice repeated. _No_ , he thought, shaking his head and forcing his eyes to face the ground to keep the figures from driving him mad. "Bellamy, look at me. _Please_ , look at me."

" _No!_ " he yelled.

" _Please_ ," the real Clarke was begging somewhere ahead, reaching for something invisible. Bellamy clenched his fists and did his best to ignore his own hallucinations to kneel beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Clarke was startled and stared at him in astonishment. There were tears in her eyes.

"Bell—" She shook her head, as if doubting her own sanity. "But... how…" Turning to her hallucination, she ran her hands through her hair, looking desolate.

"It's not real, Clarke. None of this is real. Listen to _my_ voice. _I’m_ real. Look at me."

“Look at me, Bellamy”, the voice still haunted him. He forced his eyes to focus the real Clarke. She needed him. He needed her.

Clarke finally looked up at him, her eyes meeting his as if they were air and she was suffocating. Bellamy held her arms gently, holding her gaze.

"It's not real," he said.

"It's not real," she repeated in a whisper. "You're okay." She gasped, relieved. He wondered if that meant that her hallucination had been with him. "You’re okay."

"Yes. Yes, I’m okay. Keep looking at me. Forget everything else."

She nodded, swallowing hard. Her hands settled on the inside of his elbows, as if she needed support. And he hated that this very moment — this unfortunate, possibly endangering moment, considering that the Primes might be after them and the anomaly was holding them back — was the one that made him realize how much he had missed her face. Josephine had only been acting as her for a few days, but it felt like years. Like six years. He knew a lot about missing someone for long periods of time.

Her eyes were too much to handle right now; he felt like she could see his soul if she tried hard enough. But he held her gaze up until Octavia shouted from somewhere behind them:

"Oh, come on! Not again, you _bastard_."

"Temporal flare," Gabriel yelled. "Everyone, find some place safe. _Now_!"

Bellamy and Clarke turned their eyes to the commotion going on around them. The wind had begun to blow the leaves over the ground, shaking the trees and humming lowly. A type of green fog was approaching them now. He saw that Echo was already out of her trance, but Jackson still stared at the nothingness in front of him, his face wet with tears. Octavia was helping Diyoza run toward the opposite direction, hiding among the trees. Gabriel turned to him, shouting again:

"Go! Find shelter! I'll take care of them." He turned around pushing Echo and Jackson in the same direction Octavia had chosen and Bellamy looked at Clarke, feeling his heart hammering violently in his chest. He wouldn't be able to cross the path that separated him and Clarke from the others. He would have to run the other way and hope that they'd find shelter in time.

"We have to go."

She nodded and took his hand.


	7. Chapter 7

They were running aimlessly away from the fog. Bellamy's leg seemed to burn with every step he took, but the adrenaline was so high that he didn’t care. Honestly, he would like to take a break for a day, stop being threatened by people and natural disasters — although there was nothing natural about the temporal flare. It seemed that the six years in space were the only moments of peace he had spent in his life, and that peace had been more chaotic than all his years on Earth combined. Because he thought he had lost _her_ forever.

"It's coming!" Clarke shouted, glancing over her shoulders as they ran and jumped nimbly through the trees. He risked a glance back; the fog seemed closer now. "Bellamy!" She pointed to her right, at what seemed to be a cave.

He kept running, gritting his teeth at the pain in his leg that was taking over him now that he was so close to getting to a shelter. Bending down, he pulled Clarke into the cave and kept walking until he hit his shoulder against the rocky wall.

"Shit," he cursed, letting go of Clarke's hand to place his own on his right thigh, which burned.

"Did you get hurt?"

"No... it's my leg again."

Clarke took his arm and helped him sit on the floor. The surface was uneven and uncomfortable, but it was better than being outside at that moment. They could still hear the spectral sounds of the wind; a few leaves were being blown into the cave now.

"I'm fine," he said as she leaned down to check his leg.

"Bellamy, you're _bleeding_."

"What else is new?" he joked.

She didn’t laugh.

"Seriously, I'm fine."

"The wound wasn’t healed yet. You strained yourself."

"To be fair, if I hadn’t done that, we would’ve been caught by… _Clarke, what are you doing?_ "

Clarke was lifting the hem of his shirt, pulling out one of the knives he carried around his waist, bringing it closer to where his wound was bleeding now.

"It can get infected if I don’t do something."

"After all we've been through, do you really think an infection is a problem?"

"An infection can _kill_ you," she replied harshly, carefully sliding the blade of the knife over the fabric of his pants, tearing it open. Bellamy hissed when his wound was exposed; the blood dripping, staining the cloth around it.

Clarke took a deep breath, blinking frantically as she tried to find a solution to that inconvenience. Nodding to herself, she picked up the knife again and cut a piece of her own shirt.

"That’ll do until we get to Sanctum," she whispered to herself. "Yeah, that'll do."

With agile hands, she made a tourniquet and tied the piece of cloth around Bellamy's thigh. He grunted softly while gritting his teeth. Clarke was breathing heavily when she sat beside him, resting her back against wall. Bellamy turned his face to her, but she kept staring at the opposite wall.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"Clarke..."

She looked at him with distress. He knew there was something wrong and he also knew it had to do with what she had witnessed just a few minutes ago in the woods. Clarke opened her mouth, but soon closed it. Then, she shook her head.

"What did you see there?" he asked softly.

The low clang of the knife she held falling on the floor echoed through the cave for a few seconds. He took it and put it away before she could think about using it again and cutting more pieces of clothing.

"You."

Bellamy kept staring at her profile, patiently waiting for the rest.

"Dying," her voice broke and so did his heart.

"I'm fine," he reaffirmed. "Clarke, I'm not going to die. I promise. Not from an infection. It’d be a terrible way to die after literally surviving a war."

"It's not funny."

"I'm sorry."

"Why weren’t you hallucinating like us?"

He turned his eyes to his own leg. The white piece of cloth Clarke had tied around his thigh was red from the blood now.

"I _was_. I just fought it."

"What did you see? Fear? Deepest desire? Both?"

"Only the first time."

Her eyes were glued to him, clearly expecting an elaborate response. But how could he explain to her what his mind had hallucinated? That's when he took some time to think about it. He wasn’t stupid: Octavia and Clarke had reappeared for him only minutes ago and had said the same words — yet they meant completely different things. And how could he counteract something his subconscious had manifested itself? Something he had no control over? Something that only allowed him to fight the hallucinations when he saw Clarke suffering with her own visions? Something like love?

_Fuck. No, no, no._

He let out the air violently, trying to disguise it with a cough.

_You're in love with her._

It was so obvious that a girl who didn’t even know him was able to find it out by only spending a few hours beside him. But she had Clarke's memories to use as base, which brought him to the frightening question: _did Clarke know?_ Suddenly, that cave became claustrophobic. Maybe that wasn’t the best moment for him to confront his own feelings — but then again, he had no control over it whatsoever.

_I'm in love with her._

Bellamy turned his face and met Clarke's curious gaze, confirming the previous thought without hesitation. Facing that fact was difficult. Painful, even. He was fully aware that he already knew that he had loved her for a long time, he just didn’t know the extent of that feeling. All he knew was that she didn’t fall into any of the categories that existed in his life so far — she had one of her own. Again, he wasn’t stupid. But Bellamy had never fallen in love with anyone, how was he supposed to know the difference between caring and loving if no one had ever taught it to him?

He knew it now because _she_ taught it to him.

"Bellamy?" she called him, concerned.

And only then did he realize that she had already called his name a few times, but his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he hadn’t heard her.

"You look pale. Are you sure you're okay? I can try to d—"

" _No_ ," he denied, putting a hand over her wrist as she motioned to check his leg again.

And suddenly, that simple touch seemed too intimate, too electrifying. It was as if everything had intensified now that he had admitted to himself that he loved her. He lowered his hand and cleared his throat.

"I was just trying to remember what I heard."

"Was it Octavia?"

"Yes." _It's not a lie_ , he thought. "She said she still loved me."

"She does."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I see in the way she looks at you."

Bellamy found himself looking into Clarke's eyes, looking for something, _anything,_ that could tell him what he wanted to know. _Does she know?_ Shaking his head to dismiss those thoughts, he sighed.

"I'm not so sure."

"Octavia hates _me_ , but not you. _Never_ you."

"She doesn’t hate you, Clarke."

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

"I found her when I was looking for the Children of Gabriel. When she saw you unconscious, she thought you were dead. You didn’t see the way she looked at you, Clarke. She was scared, ready to avenge your death. She practically forced Gabriel to help me. Octavia cares about you. I told her that my sister had died a long time ago, but it’s not true. She's still there."

Clarke's eyes flickered with a mixture of surprise and sadness.

"We all say things that we regret later. I know you and Octavia will go back to being close again. Give her some time."

"I gave her a hundred and twenty-five years."

Clarke chuckled under her breath and turned her body to his.

"Promise me something."

"Anything."

"When we get to Sanctum and it's all over... talk to her. _Really_ talk to her. Tell her everything you're telling me. Tell her everything you feel, because if there's one thing I've learned in the last... well, _century_... is that we have no idea when something is going to happen to us. And leaving things unsaid is a terrible mistake."

Bellamy glanced at the opposite wall, wondering if he was the only one hearing the ambiguous meaning in her words. He decided that he was. But he wasn’t going to say anything to Clarke. No, he couldn’t ruin that relationship — and hurt Echo in the process — since he didn’t even deserve her in the first place. And Clarke would never see him the way he saw her.

"I’ll try," he said.

"Good enough."

He fell silent for a moment.

"Do you think _we_ can talk now?" he asked.

"About what?"

_You. Your memories. The radio calls. The way I feel about you._

"The eclipse. I know you said we should stop saying we’re sorry, but I never apologized for what I did to you that day." He closed his eyes, knowing it was a coward thing to do. But he couldn’t face her after what he’d seen in her memory. "I would never do or say anything like that, you need to know that. I _do_ need you, Clarke. I'll always need you."

"You don’t have to tell me that."

"I _do_. You just told me to say the things I feel."

He heard her sighing quietly and opened his eyes. Slowly, he turned his face to look at her.

"I believe you."

Bellamy nodded, hesitating before asking the next question:

"Why did you keep that memory?"

To his surprise, Clarke smiled.

"Because of Murphy."

"Murphy?"

"It's not a happy memory, I know, but Murphy saved me even though he couldn’t stand me. He blamed me for everything, yet he still saved me. I know he needed an ally at the time, we were all going crazy… but I think part of him _wanted_ to help me."

"Murphy has his moments. But, you know... I think you've spent so much time hating yourself that you've projected that feeling onto other people. Murphy cares about you, he's just looking for reasons to blame someone for everything that happened."

"I know I've done wrong things. And when I think about it, I remember what you told me once. It's not so easy being in charge."

"No, it’s not."

"Do you think Murphy will change his mind?"

"Yes. Partly because Emori likes you and he's completely in love with her."

Clarke laughed softly.

"He is, isn’t he? She's good for him."

"Yeah, he needed someone to keep him centered."

She crossed her arms over her knees and rested her chin on top of them.

"Echo also keeps you centered," she mentioned. And he didn’t know whether it was worse to hear her talking about how his girlfriend was good for him when he had just discovered that he loved _her_ or to realize that these were the words Jaha had used to describe his role in Clarke’s life once. _You got it backwards_ , he had replied. 

Bellamy cleared his throat.

"Echo was a surprise."

"Why didn’t you tell me about her?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you found me on Earth, you didn’t say anything about it. I found out when you two met a few days later. Were you afraid I would judge you?"

Every word she said was yet another reminder of how terrible he was. No, he wasn’t afraid to be judged. He simply didn’t remember to mention that fact amid the chaos and happiness of getting Clarke back. And what did that say about his character?

"I think so," he lied.

"Well... she’s changed. It's you. She loves you."

He should say something. Anything. _I love her too. She's important to me._ But all his mind could put together was: _I love_ you. And Echo didn’t deserve that. None of that was planned, he would never hurt Echo in any way. But he couldn’t deny his own feelings either. So he tried to change the topic instead.

"Clarke, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"Have you ever thought about taking your own life? Besides the day of the eclipse."

Clarke didn’t move. It seemed like every muscle in her body was tense. Only her eyes wandered aimlessly across the floor; her chin still resting firmly on her arms.

"Yes," she whispered.

He felt his stomach twitch.

"Do you believe the things you heard from Abby through the radio that day?"

He heard her gulping.

"Partially, I…"

He waited, but she only let those three dots hammer painfully into his head.

"If only you could see what I see."

She looked up at him.

"What?"

"You genuinely believe that you hurt the people around you. And I wish... I wish you could see how good you are for Madi. For our friends. Your mother. For _me_. You’re _so_ good for me, Clarke. I know I don’t say this as much as I should, but we _did_ spend a lot of time apart, after all." He let out a low chuckle. "And yet you think you destroy everyone who’s by your side. But _dammit_ , Clarke, I spent six years completely broken because you _weren’t_ by my side."

He knew that Clarke had good control over her own emotions most of the time. But at that moment, everything she felt was written on her face in bold letters. Amazement, melancholy, unbelief, wonderment. Or maybe it was just him. He had learned to read her like his favorite books. And he couldn’t believe that she was surprised to know how much her death had affected him.

"And I know that you still want to live. Otherwise, you would’ve given up. You wouldn’t have tried to fight, to send me a message. Whatever Josephine said to you to make you give it up, it's _not true_. You deserve to live. And you deserve to be happy."

Clarke finally moved. She lifted her head and he realized that her eyes were shining with the tears he knew she would suppress. Clarke didn’t like crying and she had already done it many times in the last couple hours. She leaned back against the wall, her arm brushing his.

"I know that now," she whispered, nodding.

For a few seconds, he thought she wouldn’t say anything else, but soon she let out a shaky breath and looked at him again.

"I just gave up because I thought _you_ had given up on me. Because I thought you'd be better off without me. _All_ of you."

"I’d never give up on you."

He planned to say more. He meant to say that those six years in space were proof that he wouldn’t be better off without her; that the idea of losing her was inconceivable and it frightened him; that having spent years thinking that she was dead had also killed a part of him. But she was looking at him with such tenderness that he couldn’t find his voice. The words got lost in his parted lips; his head working fast to find something to fill that silence because he was sure he was being drawn toward her by some kind of invisible magnetism. And as much as he tried to, he couldn’t resist.

Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but it only made his eyes stare at her lips for longer than appropriate. Letting his selfishness win, he leaned forward, subtly; his eyes absorbing every inch of her face. He could feel her uneasiness, the uncertainty of what was happening. He didn’t know what was happening either. _When did he stop having control over his own body?_

Bellamy gritted his teeth, remembering Echo. _I can't do this to her._

Unexpectedly, however, Clarke also leaned in; for a second, he thought she was going to solve yet another one of his dilemmas. But she tugged at his neck, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace and adjusting her head on the curve of his neck. She fit perfectly there.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for saving me. And not just now."

He sighed, gripping the back of her head carefully and pressing his temple to hers. His heart seemed to have a life of its own inside his chest.

"Anytime."

Her fingers brushed the back of his neck and Bellamy sighed again. Would it always be like that? Would he always have to deny his own desires when he was around her? Would he always have to settle for those simple touches that made his body shudder? Would that feeling ever go away? He already knew the answer.

If more than a hundred and twenty-five years hadn’t been able to make it all go away, a lifetime would never be enough.

"But… Clarke?"

"Yeah?"

"You're enough, you know? You said that you gave up because you thought _I_ had given up and that everyone's lives would be better off without you. But you don’t have to find reasons to live in other people. Because there are millions of reasons in you. Live for _yourself_ , not for others."

He could hear her swallowing.

"I'll remember that next time my mind is stolen again," she teased.

"Don’t you dare do that to me again," he laughed, turning his head just enough to place a kiss on her cheek. And he let his lips rest on her skin, because the feeling was unbelievably good. It was as if he was finding his place; the place where he belonged to — where he had always belonged to, even without knowing it.

Clarke didn’t move, but he didn’t know what to make of it. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing: when Clarke first left him, shortly after the events at Mount Weather, she had done the same. And he still remembered feeling temporarily out of place, completely taken aback by the tender gesture. He wondered what she was thinking at that moment. And the more the time passed and the silence settled between them, the more he wondered what he should do next.

"Bellamy?"

He moved his lips away from her face, suddenly regretful.

"I think the fog is gone," she said.

He breathed in relief, because she didn’t seem to be bothered by what had just happened. Clarke let go of him and nodded toward the cave’s entrance. The wind had already stopped and the leaves were motionless on the ground as far as he could see.

"I’ll go check. Stay here."

"Is this because of my leg again?"

She rolled her eyes and gestured for him to remain seated until she returned. Turning her back to him, she walked away, emerging into the forest that seemed to have quieted down. Bellamy sighed and waited. Suddenly, he heard a loud and slightly familiar noise; obviously, there were no motorcycles in space. All he knew about bikes was what he saw in the old movies he watched on the Ark. But Sanctum had several of them and the loud engine had already become a familiar sound.

_The Primes._

His heart quickened and Bellamy rose to his feet in a hurry, feeling the pain in his leg intensify with the effort. Struggling, he marched to the entrance of the cave and confirmed his worst fear: Clarke was no longer there.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun was high by the time Bellamy felt his throat dry, clamoring for some water. Dirty, hurt and completely lost, he figured he should’ve been walking for at least half an hour. His mind was a tangle of disconnected thoughts. _I need to find Clarke. I need to find Octavia. I need to find a way out._

He trusted Clarke blindly — it was no wonder he had snuck into Mount Weather risking his life, after all. He knew she would save him, like she had done so many times before.

But regardless of anything, he wouldn’t rest easy until he knew she was safe and sound. If she did a good job at acting like Josephine, there would be nothing to worry about. This part of the plan was easy. But what would happen next? Octavia was right: how would they escape afterwards without anyone noticing?

Shaking his head to dismiss those thoughts, he continued to walk. In his hand he had a long branch, which served as a cane, helping with the pain. It wasn’t long before he heard a low noise somewhere nearby.

"O?" he tried.

The noise ceased for a moment and in a few seconds, he heard footsteps.

"Bellamy?"

"O!" He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his sister only a few feet away from where he was standing. Without thinking twice about it, he walked over to Octavia and hugged her with every ounce of strength he still had, letting his makeshift cane fall to the ground. He felt Octavia's arms hesitating, parallel to her sides, and for a moment he thought she was going to push him away. But slowly, almost as if she was scared, she hugged him back, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

He couldn’t remember the last time he'd held her, but it felt like nothing had changed. It was as if he was coming back to his room on the Ark and greeting his sister after a long day, just like he used to do.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he said, finally letting her go. Octavia took a step back and looked at him attentively.

"Where were you, anyway?" she asked, trying to sound uninterested.

"Clarke and I found a cave on the other side... actually, I’m not sure if it _was_ on the other side. I'm completely lost. I've been walking in circles and my leg’s killing me."

" _Where_ is Clarke?"

He shook his head.

"The Primes took her."

Octavia looked away, shaking her head.

"Part of me believed that they wouldn’t be so predictable. But the other part is glad that’s how it went, because maybe _now_ you’ll all finally agree that we should kill these people who think they’re deities."

"Where are the others?"

"Gabriel and Jackson went to find our bikes."

He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

"Diyoza and I stole the bikes from the Children of Gabriel when you kicked me out of the ship. But we left them in the woods when that whole thing with the anomaly went down. They went to get it so we can get to Sanctum faster. Diyoza and your girlfriend are resting just ahead."

He nodded, relieved to know that his friends were alive and well. Octavia's eyes noticed the tourniquet around his leg and looked back up at him.

"What did you do?"

"When we were running to find shelter, the wound opened up again. But I'm fine."

She nodded and immediately turned her back to him, ready to join Diyoza and Echo, but Bellamy called her back before she could take another step.

"Wait a second."

She looked at him with her arms crossed, as if he was being impertinent.

"I, uh... I...” He sighed, swallowing hard and trying to think of something to say. Something that could translate everything he was feeling right now. “I'm _so_ sorry, O."

Octavia clenched her jaws, studying his expression intently. Her eyes flickered with a feeling he knew all too well: pain. She tried to disguise it with a challenging look; if he didn’t know her so well, he would’ve believed she didn’t care.

" _Are_ you, now? About what? Betraying me? Kicking me out? Trying to _kill_ me? There are just _so_ many things, I can’t keep up, Bellamy."

"I didn’t try to kill you. I would never do that. I knew the algae would only leave you unconscious long enough to—"

"Betray me."

He swallowed hard.

"Yes."

She squinted, lifting her chin up.

"You don’t seem to be sorry, big brother."

"I _am_. I am, because part of that... part of what you've become… it is _my_ fault. But, O, I was _so_ afraid. You were marching into a war that would kill all of our friends, our people. That would kill _you_. What was I supposed to do? Everyone's lives were in my hands and I couldn’t bear to lose you."

He blinked, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to come out. He let his eyes stare into hers, allowing her to see the truth without him needing to say anything else. _Tell her everything you feel_ , Clarke had said earlier. But his words were never going to be good enough, because nothing could make justice to the turmoil of emotions inside his body.

" _And Clarke_ ," she added; her eyes inspecting his face, looking for a movement or an expression that could confirm what she had just said. And how could he deny it when she could see through him so clearly?

"You would’ve killed her, O," he said, his voice cracking.

With furrowed brows, Octavia took a step forward, unfolding her arms and letting them fall to her sides. 

"And you would’ve died in her place?" she asked, although it sounded like a statement. "Even with her leaving you behind, you would’ve died in her place."

"I betrayed her."

"So, if I’d killed you, would it also be justified? You betrayed _me_ , too."

"Yes."

"Would you die in her place?"

"Yes."

She swallowed, her eyes glistening with a new feeling he couldn’t read.

"Would you’ve let me kill you?"

"Yes."

Octavia shook her head, subtly at first, then frantically. She turned her back to him, covering her face with her hands. Bellamy stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away as if she'd been electrocuted.

"I've spent _so much time_ trying to hate you," she revealed, her voice slightly choked, but masked with false determination. "For Lincoln, for Pike, for bringing Diyoza to the bunker at Polis. But I _couldn’t_. And I still can’t."

"O, I never wanted Lincoln—"

" _I know!_ " she shouted, her voice finally breaking. She shook her head again and he stood facing her. Octavia turned her face to the side, backing away another step and trying to contain the tears what were streaming down her face. "I _know_ , but you... you _killed_ those people, you killed… an _entire army_ that was there to protect us… you followed Pike, you... _you killed me_ slowly, Bellamy. You said you'd always be on my side, you said that."

His heart was breaking all over again. Ever since he was a kid, Bellamy used to tell himself that he would do everything in his power to prevent her from being hurt by other people. But never in his life would he have thought that _he_ would be the one doing the hurting. It stung.

"And I'll _always_ be."

"You said your sister died a long time ago," she retaliated, looking at him with a mixture of anguish and irritation. "And it was true, she died with Lincoln."

" _No_ , O. I was wrong. I _know_ the Octavia from before is in there. If she weren’t, you wouldn’t care. But you keep caring and this is something no one can take away from you. _Who you are._ Losing Lincoln was devastating. He was my friend, too. And I know how much you loved him. I can’t fix the past, but Lincoln... he wouldn’t want you to lose yourself, to forget who you are. Your strength lies in the cause of your battles: the people you care about. I'm not your enemy, O, and I don’t want to be. I want to help you. Let me help you."

Another tear rolled down her cheek and Bellamy reached out to dry it with his thumb. She didn’t move away from his touch and he took it as a sign that he could take a step closer to her.

"How could I not lose myself? They made me do this, Bellamy. _Everything_ I did in the bunker was what was asked of me. They said I _needed_ to be a leader for my people, I _needed_ to do whatever it took to survive, I _needed_ to take care of everyone… when I couldn’t even take care of _myself_. Do you know why I burned that damn farm down? Because I didn’t want to go back to the dark year. Because I _knew_ that if that didn’t work, we'd be forced to do it again and I wouldn’t..." Her voice broke again and she tried to suppress a sob. "I _couldn’t_ do that again, Bell. I couldn’t. You have no idea what I did there, you have no idea what we became, what we…"

"I bear it so they don’t have to," he murmured.

Octavia looked at him, desperately running her hands over her face, hating the fact that she was exposing herself to the brother who was once her best friend, but now felt so distant.

Bellamy wrapped his arms around her, and this time, she responded immediately, shoving her face into his chest and letting her tears wet his shirt. He leaned his chin against the top of her head and closed his eyes, imagining that all the sadness, the sorrows and the mistakes of their pasts were now being buried seven feet below the ground where they stood on. Octavia's sobs were a reminder that, deep down, she was still just a girl forced to grow up too soon. Someone who people unloaded the weight of the world on. Just like him. Just like Clarke.

The world hadn’t been fair to any of them.

"I love you, Octavia. I'm sorry for not seeing what was happening to you before. I should’ve known, I should’ve seen. Having you as my responsibility was never an obligation. It was something I was proud of, _am_ proud of. You’ve done wrong things and you will find your redemption. I’ll help you with that. We spent so much time being at war, but fighting is not all that we know. We know how to love. We're going to survive this, okay?"

Octavia's arms tightened around him.

"Okay," she replied, letting a shaky breath escape her mouth; she had never sounded as scared or as vulnerable as she did now. If Bellamy closed his eyes, he could picture her as a ten-year-old again, asking him not to hide her under the floor because it was terrifying.

She needed a few more minutes to calm down, during which Bellamy gently stroked her hair — like he used to do when she was a child and cried over a bruise or an inconvenience that seemed like the end of the world to an infant. Everything seemed right at that moment, being able to calm his sister down and offer her his shoulders and his heart.

"Bell?"

He smiled at the nickname he hadn’t heard in years.

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn’t have killed you," she whispered.

"Let's not think about that anymore."

"I need you to know that."

He simply nodded, releasing her as she jerked away from his embrace. Octavia wiped her face with her hands and shook her head as she stared into his eyes with firmness, demanding his full attention.

"I wouldn’t have killed Clarke either," she added. "Losing Lincoln was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn’t do the same to you."

"O…"

"I _know_ you love her, Bellamy. Maybe you can fool other people and even yourself, but not me. I always knew. You used to say I was the only person you’d die for. But you just told me that you’d do the same for her.”

"There are things you couldn’t understand."

"What, the _spy_?"

"She has a name."

Octavia rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I always end up forgetting it. She's _so_ memorable."

"Octavia..."

"She threw me off a cliff, Bellamy. Do you expect me to forget that?"

"Listen… Echo has changed, okay? It also took me a long time to understand this. I needed three years to finally be able to look at her, it wasn’t easy. But she’s a different person now. You and I… we’ve done bad things too, O. If we deserve a second chance, why doesn’t _she_? But even so, I know this is hard for you and I won’t try to force you to talk to her or do anything you don’t want to."

"Good, because that’s not happening. So it _is_ her?"

Bellamy wet his lips, averting his eyes to the side, wondering if Echo was close enough to hear them. He couldn’t see her or Diyoza anywhere.

"Echo helped me a lot. In space, I was losing my mind. I was worried about you and thinking that I had killed Clarke and... she was there."

"So you're telling me you're with her out of gratitude?"

"No! Of course not." He shook his head, staring at her as if she was crazy for even suggesting something of the sort. Bellamy cared about Echo, it was something he had learned to do in the ring. But he was fully aware that this feeling wasn’t much different from what he felt for friends. She was tough and loyal; she made him smile and listened to him; she earned his forgiveness and he found in her someone he could rely on, someone who sought redemption, just like him.

"I know you’d never do that," Octavia agreed. "But I can’t understand. When I saw you with her for the first time, I couldn’t believe it. And I wondered how you could’ve forgotten Clarke so easily. But then I saw that wasn’t the case. You were still devoted to her. Maybe even more."

He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. This was not the conversation he imagined he would be having with his sister after reconciling with her, much less in the woods, exhausted and in a hurry to get to Sanctum. But there wasn’t much to do until Gabriel and Jackson returned. Opening his eyes, he saw her staring at him curiously.

"I thought she was dead."

"I got that part. I mean, I didn’t know it at the time, but I know that now."

"I... I don’t know what you want me to say, Octavia."

She sighed.

"The _truth_. You didn’t deny what I said, which means you know I'm right."

" _Why_ are you so interested in this, anyway?"

She swallowed hard, shaking her head. Her eyes grew distant and defensive, as if he was entering a dangerous territory, trespassing the walls she had built so carefully along the years.

"Doesn’t matter."

"Yes, it does. Everything matters, O. I've spent so much time not knowing what you were thinking that I don’t mind listening to a monologue on 'Metamorphoses' right now," he said, referring to her favorite book, which she loved to babble about when they were younger. She could chat his ears off about it for hours. He would give everything to hear another monologue from her.

Octavia scoffed, but eventually smiled. It was subtle and hesitant, but it was there.

"You're pathetic."

"I can live with that. So…?”

She crossed her arms again, absentmindedly drumming her fingers on her elbows.

"I just... I saw you in the woods when I was hallucinating. Both times. It was you in the fighting pit, ready to die. And I... I don’t want to see that look on your face, _ever_ again. I want you to be happy, Bell. _Really_. I know that my past actions may not make it seem like it, but I always wanted you to be happy. And _God_ , I've been watching you keep those feelings to yourself for years never knowing why. Do you think that you don’t deserve to be happy?"

"What?"

"That’s the only thing I can think of. You still hate yourself and I know that because I feel the same. I’ve felt the same for years now, thinking that I don’t deserve to be happy or to have people caring about me. Is this what this is? Is this why you started this thing with Echo? Because you thought she would keep you from thinking about something you don’t want to think about?"

“You think I’d do that to someone? You think I’m that shallow?” he retaliated.

“No, I don’t think you’re shallow. I think that you were hurting and you didn’t notice that was what you were doing. What you’re _still_ doing. Tell me you’re happy. Tell me that you believed, at least at some point in your life, that you deserved to be happy and that you thought Echo would make it happen.”

He wanted to. He _really_ wanted to. But there was no point in denying that Octavia was right and the fact that it took him so many years to come to that realization was astounding. Maybe it was because he didn’t know the extent of his feelings for Clarke, which brought him to yet another realization — he was never able to understand what he felt for her because he always thought he didn’t deserve her, not even as a friend. It would be wrong and incoherent for him to even think of another possibility beyond their friendship.

 _But what about Echo?_ Was he a bad person for using her, inadvertently, to cope with his self-loathing? Was he a terrible human being for starting a relationship knowing very well that he would never be happy or be able to make _her_ happy? _Yes, yes I am_ , he thought, slowly shaking his head in disapproval.

“That doesn’t make you a bad person,” Octavia said, as if reading his mind. “It makes you human. And if you’re helping me find redemption, then I’ll help you find forgiveness.”

“Do you really think I deserve that after everything?”

“Maybe deserving has nothing to do with forgiveness. Maybe we just need to look at ourselves and see that we did the best we could with what we had. That’s what you told me once.”

“I sound way wiser.”

Octavia scoffed and shrugged, looking up at the sky.

“I used to think I was the one to blame when mom died. Because I shouldn’t have gone to that party.”

“ _I_ did that.”

“And so the self-hate of the Blakes began,” she teased. Bellamy smiled weakly. “Maybe we were both wrong. Or maybe _they_ were the wrong ones. The Ark made us think that we were bad people. Me, for existing. You, for trying to protect me. And we did what we had to do to survive. The thing is, Bell… mom taught us to be strong. And if we’re both standing here, after most of the people we went to Earth with have died, I say we learned that lesson pretty well. And being strong is about fighting, even if it means fighting yourself, the part of you that says that you don’t get to be happy. And I... I just want to be happy again.”

He stared at her, stunned. The feeling was similar to the one when he held her in his arms for the first time. He was just a boy and his arms were so small that Octavia barely fit in them, even though she was so tiny. But he stared at his sister’s eyes and felt so proud; he knew that she was a fighter right from the start, because she grabbed his finger with all of her strength and stopped crying the moment he told her everything would be alright.

Right now, he felt the same. They had walked a long way, survived wars and lost some battles; they had lived in fear and in shame for the things they had done in the past. But here she was, older and wiser, telling _him_ , the one who should be advising her, that if she could find light inside herself, so could he.

“You know, that’s enough sentimental crap for one day,” she said, suddenly. “So… just do what you want with that. But for what it’s worth, I think you and Clarke are both idiots.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She pleaded for your life in Polis. Right after she left you there, she came back and begged me to spare your life.”

“She never told me that.”

“Yeah… classic Bellamy and Clarke martyr move. Hence, _idiots._ ” 

Bellamy stared at her in astonishment when he heard the unmistakable sound of engines nearby. Octavia turned around and began to run toward the noise without saying anything else. Completely taken aback, he followed her to find the rest of his friends. Echo was helping Diyoza get up when Gabriel and Jackson stopped. The latter seemed about to throw up.

"Octavia should’ve gone in my place," he said, getting off the bike.

"Quit being a baby, Jackson. I wasn’t gonna leave Diyoza with the spy. Much less with you, she’d probably kill you by the time we got back."

“That hurts my feelings,” Diyoza said, trying to lighten the mood when she noticed the way Echo glared at Octavia. Bellamy sighed.

"How are we doing this? We only have two bikes."

"I fit twelve clans in a bunker," Octavia said. "Three people on each bike is not a challenge." Climbing on one of the bikes, Octavia gestured for Diyoza to approach her. "You come with me. Bellamy back here. I won’t go with the spy and I don’t want Jackson throwing up halfway."

Everyone mumbled under their breaths, but Bellamy couldn’t understand what they were saying. He wouldn’t object to Octavia's idea, especially now that she was looking at him with feelings that differed from anger or frustration. He saw Echo settle behind Gabriel on the other bike and offer her hand to Jackson, who closed his eyes tightly as he grabbed Echo's shoulders. Bellamy helped Diyoza sit down and then settled behind her. He saw Octavia look at Gabriel.

"I don’t think I’ve congratulated you on the bikes. Between ships and rovers, this is definitely the best way to go around."

Gabriel smiled, shaking his head.

"Tell me that again when you find puddles of mud in the middle of the way."

She tried to suppress a smile, turning her head forward and speeding away into the woods. In about minutes, they crossed the distance that would’ve taken them hours to complete on foot. Gabriel and Octavia switched off the engines when they got to the limits of the radiation shield that separated Sanctum from the rest of the world. Bellamy jumped to his feet, surveying Sanctum's castle in the distance, hoping Clarke would be safe and sound inside.

He noticed Gabriel doing the same, although he was probably thinking about what he was about to do. Bellamy took a few seconds to realize that the man was playing with Josephine's mind drive between his fingers. Octavia approached him.

"Are you sure you're doing this?"

Gabriel looked down at her, his face almost emotionless, and nodded.

"The right thing to do," he said.

"The right thing to do," she repeated softly, turning her face towards the horizon.

Echo walked past them, positioning the EMP that Jackson carried in his backpack at a safe distance from the tower that protected Sanctum from the radiation.

"In ten seconds," she announced.

And in ten seconds, they were inside the small town, finally realizing the reality of it all. Bellamy took the time to rethink the unfinished plan they had made before Clarke being practically kidnapped by the Primes, following Diyoza's slow steps. Octavia and Gabriel led the group, with Echo and Jackson walking right behind them.

"We've come a long way, huh?" Diyoza commented, risking an amused look in Bellamy's direction. "A few years ago, it was you walking towards me to save her life. Now I'm on your side. Yet your goal remains the same."

"Why _are you_ on my side?" he asked.

She shrugged.

"After a century of life, you begin to reevaluate things. The time I spent with your people was... enlightening."

"Kane is a good diplomat."

"Oh, yes... Kane was an unexpected ally. He's a nice guy."

"Hmm, I didn’t have that conviction when he turned on our people."

" _Clarke_ turned on your people," she recalled. "Your conviction about her life being worthy of being saved hasn’t changed."

Bellamy glanced at her, knowing perfectly well that she was right. He was a hypocrite and he knew it. All his values and beliefs were forgotten and adjustable when it came to Clarke. But he didn’t need yet another person who barely knew him talking about the way he felt. Besides, Echo was only a few paces ahead and he wasn’t sure if she could listen or not. Diyoza noticed his uncertain look at his girlfriend and sighed, patting his back.

"Cheer up, man. With luck, a hundred years of life will also give you a little wisdom," she said, smiling at him.

They marched the rest of the way in silence, and as they climbed the steep and tiresome trail under the suns of the afternoon, he saw a true army forming in front of the castle. Hundreds of guards stood in position, protecting their city from them. It was like a déjà vu, walking into what felt like war.

"So much for ending the war," Diyoza mumbled, and he nodded silently.

He picked up the pace and reached Gabriel and Octavia.

"Let me go ahead, Russell will want to talk to me. And, Gabriel... don’t reveal your identity, we'll do this another way."

"They already know what I am because of my clothes."

"But they don’t know that you are Gabriel himself. We're gonna make this a mission of peace and you need to keep the mind drive hidden," he added, looking at the tiny object Gabriel still held between his fingers. He slipped it into his pocket.

"Mission of peace," Octavia repeated, her eyes narrowing. "Does that mean I really can’t use my knives?"

"Do you have your knives on you?" Gabriel asked, surprised.

"Of course, I went back to the shed to pick them up as soon as you started walking. I never leave unprepared. I know you prefer diplomacy, big brother, but if someone puts a knife to Clarke's throat, how do you plan on helping her?"

Bellamy sighed.

“I _have_ a knife on me," he said. " _Which_ I will _only_ use if it’s _extremely_ necessary."

"Copy that," she chirped.

Gabriel looked at him emphatically, as if he knew exactly what he was feeling at that moment. Octavia never seemed to mind what he said, it had always been that way. Resigned, he stepped up, assuming the position as leader.

Bellamy was absolutely sure that his heart stopped for exactly two seconds when he saw the familiar blond hair in the distance, watching them from the balcony of the castle.

_She’s alive._

It motivated him to march eagerly, fighting the pain that seemed to pierce the nerves of his thigh. It was simply insane. They had no solid strategy, that plan was a kind of brainstorm in which everyone pitched ideas, but none had been officially chosen. How many insane things did he do for her?

Getting inside Mount Weather. Invading a conclave. Almost being killed in a gas chamber. Chasing Roan. Poisoning Octavia. Trading 283 lives for hers.

_He would trade his own life for hers._

When they stepped on the gigantic courtyard of Sanctum, one of the guards in the first row stepped forward, dangerously leaning the tip of the sword he held against Bellamy's chest.

"Hey!" he heard Clarke scream in the distance, imitating Josephine's high-pitched voice. "Put that down. _Now!_ "

Bellamy swallowed and looked up, seeing Clarke climbing down the stairs, even though he knew she was dying to run and end it all. Russell followed promptly, and when the two got close enough, he placed a hand on the handle of the guard's sword, which was still pointed at Bellamy.

"It’s alright, Rufus."

The guard didn’t look away, but Bellamy also didn’t dare to stop staring at him with all the fury he felt for the Primes.

"They have one of Gabriel's followers," Rufus pointed out.

Russell's eyes went to Gabriel, who raised his head to face the old companion with determination. For a moment, Bellamy thought he’d recognized him, but Russell looked at every one of his friends until turning back to him.

"Who did you bring along, Bellamy? What are you up to?"

"Let's talk inside," he demanded, looking at Clarke, who raised an eyebrow as Josephine used to when she was being challenged. It was so absurdly alike her that he couldn’t help but feeling a discomfort with the idea that Josephine might be taking over her body again. He knew it was impossible, but the fear was still inside him.

She looked at Russell and nodded, rolling her eyes.

"There's no reason to make a scene out here."

Russell sighed and asked Rufus to send only ten of his men into the castle. He gestured for them to follow, and Bellamy tried his hardest not to steal another glance from Clarke. There was no room for mistakes at that moment. He wanted to make sure she was alright, that no one had even laid a finger on her. But he knew she was perfectly capable of handling herself.

He jumped when someone leaned against his arm. It was Octavia.

"That Rufus guy has a bad left shoulder. If he tries anything, aim for it."

Bellamy wondered if she ever stopped thinking about fighting strategies. Probably not. He wasn't going to say anything, however, because he finally had his sister around, and for the first time in years, they were working towards the same goal.

"Bellamy," Gabriel approached him as they walked. "You should keep the mind drive. In case something happens."

He felt Gabriel slide the object into his hand and put it in his pocket.

"Nothing will happen," he affirmed, feigning a confidence he didn’t feel.

"Let's hope not."

With his heart racing and his stomach twisting, Bellamy climbed the stairs after Russell and followed him into the room where they would decide the future of his people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! ❤️
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The Blakes reunion is something I've been dying to see on the show and I hope we get them to work together to save Clarke just like they're doing in this story. Anyway, I'll be uploading the next chapter tomorrow, so keep an eye out for it.  
> Once again, thank you for reading this story, it means a lot to me.  
> Have a great weekend!


	9. Chapter 9

The room was grand and illuminated; the walls were filled with reenactments of famous paintings and exquisite objects. There were two large windows on each side of the room, both closed; the sun rays cast light on the white floor, making everything seem surreal. A long dining table was in the center of the room, completely empty except for a vase of blue flowers.

"You may sit," Russell offered.

"No, we’re good," Bellamy replied, standing next to one of the chairs and intertwining his hands in front of his body.

Russell's eyes moved to something above Bellamy's shoulders and he glanced sideways to see Gabriel admiring the paintings hanging on the walls.

"Those are my daughter's. Josephine," Russell commented, sounding proud of the fact. Bellamy turned to look at Clarke and saw her force a smile, brilliantly rehearsed, as she fiddled absently with a strand of blond hair.

"She's... uh... talented," Gabriel said.

"Yes, I am," Clarke replied, adding a childish laugh that made his body shudder. She was frighteningly good at playing Josephine. "But we're not here to talk about my many talents, otherwise we'd be here until tomorrow, _so_..." She sighed. "What do you want? Clarke asked me to let you go when she died, so why don’t you get your friends and go at once before I regret it?"

Russell laid a hand on Clarke's arm. Bellamy felt like pulling his own knife and sticking it into the first carotid artery he could find in the man’s body.

"We still have a few things to discuss, dear."

"How are our friends?" Octavia asked, stepping forward to stand beside Bellamy.

"They're fine," Russell guaranteed. "John and Jordan are being taken care of as we speak."

"And Madi?" Bellamy demanded. He saw Clarke looking at Russell, trying to cover up her expectations to hear his answer, but Russell's face turned into a cold and furious semblance.

"Out of respect for Clarke, she's being held."

Bellamy took another step towards him, hearing the guards get in position behind them. However, Russell gestured for them to stand back without breaking eye contact with him.

"Out of _respect_ for Clarke?" he repeated wryly. "You had no respect when you _stole_ her body to do your sick procedures."

"Listen, Bellamy... I know it wasn’t right—"

" _Damn right, it wasn’t!_ " he snapped, crossing the distance between them with a single step to look at him closely. He leaned in to make himself clear as he said: "You're going to let Madi and my friends go and then you're letting us out of here."

"I can’t do that."

"Daddy, that's not what we agreed on," Clarke said, looking at him meaningfully. She swallowed hard when she noticed Russell’s skeptical look and her eyes softened over his face. "You were right, okay? I should’ve listened to you when you told me I could choose another body. I almost died, don’t you think I regret that? But whatever, it happened and I’m here now. And I promised her I’d let them all go. That includes the little gremlin. You know what these people are capable of, they’re savages. Let them go before they resort to... unorthodox means."

"The child _killed_ two of our people, Josie!"

"And _you_ killed many more," Octavia retaliated, pointing a finger at him. "Of your own people. And _ours_."

"She's a child," Bellamy added. "Are you really sick to the point of punishing a child? You say you're sorry for Clarke, but you’re not."

Russell looked stunned. He stared at Bellamy as if he was speaking in an unfamiliar language, as if nothing made sense. He was about to say something when the door to the room was suddenly opened and a tall, light-haired, extremely familiar man appeared.

"Ryker," he heard Russell say. "What happened?"

"The ship is coming back."

"What?"

"They’re landing. We couldn’t reach Simone, we still don’t know why they're back."

"Stay here for a moment, I need to sort this out."

Ryker nodded and entered the room. As Russell passed them with a determined look, Bellamy saw Diyoza approach Octavia to whisper something in her ear, to which his sister responded with a confused look. He stepped aside and approached her.

“What happened?”

"Diyoza said she saw this guy when she was inside the anomaly."

"What? Ryker?"

"Yes. When she got out of there, she started talking about seeing things that would happen in the future. I didn’t believe any of that garbage, because… well, that _sounds_ like gibberish. But Diyoza has never seen this guy in her life and she said she’s sure that he’s the one we need to end all of this."

Bellamy pulled away just enough to look at his sister and she appeared to be just as shocked as he was. Watching Ryker pass by the guards to take Russell's place, he caught Clarke staring at him quizzically. He only shook his head keenly before Ryker approached her.

"Josephine?"

She forced another smile, twisting a lock of hair around her index finger.

"Don’t sound so disappointed, Ryker."

He looked at her with aversion and she held his gaze determinedly, forcing him to look away and finally study the familiar and unfamiliar faces staring back at him. Octavia, Diyoza and Gabriel were the only people he hadn’t met yet. However, when his eyes laid upon Gabriel; a crease between his eyebrows denoted his uncertainty. Gradually, he let out a sharp breath, his eyes widening.

"It can’t be…"

"Ryker," Gabriel greeted him softly, so the guards wouldn’t listen. "It's been a long time, old friend."

Bellamy was desperately trying to think of something to keep Gabriel from engaging in that conversation, because Ryker's eyes were already on Clarke and he was certain that the man would find out what they were doing, causing them to fight until their deaths. Clarke swallowed hard and looked at Gabriel, trying to signal him. Bellamy could see her hands shaking.

"Ryker," Gabriel said again, and this time Bellamy stretched out his arm so he wouldn’t go any further. "It's okay, Bellamy. He’ll help us."

But a glance in Ryker’s direction was enough to understand that he wouldn’t. He was frightened, and his eyes kept moving between Gabriel and Clarke, slowly connecting the dots.

"I thought you were _dead_ ," Ryker whispered.

"Get away from him right now," one of the guards shouted across the room, but Ryker shook his head to him, indicating that the conversation wasn’t threatening.

"I _should_ be. It's a long story. One I’d like to tell you if I had the time, but we don’t have much of that right now."

"What are you doing here?"

Gabriel looked at Clarke, who was staring at him in distress.

"Russell thinks she's Josephine," he whispered. "But this is Clarke. I managed to get the mind drive out and shut her down."

Ryker gasped.

"You _killed_ Josephine for good?" he whispered back. "Are you out of your mind, Gabe? What are they going to do to you when they find out?"

"Ryker, I'm here to end this. I should never have helped Russell, this is the... this is my deepest regret, so… _please,_ help me. I know you don’t agree with any of this, otherwise you wouldn’t have helped me escape."

Ryker shook his head.

"I helped you because you’re my friend."

"That's not the whole truth."

"I can’t do it."

"Ryker..."

" _No_. Gabe, they're going to kill me. And then they'll kill _you_."

"Well, there's no going back now. I'm already here. If anyone deserves to die, it's _me_. Not Clarke. Or any of them. They’re innocent."

Bellamy almost laughed. None of them were innocent. If Gabriel knew half of what they had done, perhaps his perception would change. Those years on Earth helped him realize that there are always two sides to a story. It's possible to be a villain and a good guy at the same time. It just depends on how you look at it.

Ryker was considering that argument. Bellamy could see the indecision and restlessness hidden beneath his determined look. Clarke approached Ryker, turning her back to the guards.

"Ryker, you're the _only_ Prime who can help us. I know you don’t agree with this, I can see it in your eyes. You can stop the cycle. You can be the good guy."

 _Be the good guys_ , Monty's voice echoed in Bellamy's mind. _We're trying_.

But before Ryker could answer, the door was opened once again to a new group of people. Russell was followed by Simone, Abby, Raven, Indra and three more Eligius passengers. Bellamy's eyes searched for Kane — the old chancellor would know how to act with diplomacy and mastery in that situation — but he wasn’t there. Catching Raven's eyes, he mouthed the question:

"Where's Kane?"

And he felt his stomach sink when she responded with a negative nod.

 _No. Not Kane._ Gritting his teeth and blinking to hold back his tears, he faced Russell again. If he wanted to get out of that room alive and save his people in the process, thinking about Kane's death wouldn’t be a good strategy.

"Clarke!" Abby exclaimed, walking toward her daughter with eagerness. Her eyes were slightly swollen, and her face revealed her pain. Bellamy saw Clarke clench her fists, struggling not to reveal her true identity with any movement.

"Try again," she replied in Josephine's voice; he could see how difficult it was for her to hold her mother's gaze with a mischievous smile and fake amusement. Abby frowned, leaning into Raven, who put one arm on her shoulder. By the miserable look on Raven’s face, he assumed she had already understood what was happening — or better yet, what they wanted Russell and his people to think was happening.

"What?" Abby whispered.

"I'm not Clarke."

"What are you… Clarke... what are you saying?"

"Isn’t it obvious?" Raven practically spat the words out, drilling Simone with her watery eyes. "Clarke was a nightblood. What do you think they did to her?"

Abby gasped, bringing a hand to her lips.

"No…"

"Abby," Raven tried to hug her, but Abby shook her head, abruptly running toward Simone. Maybe her plan was to kill her, just as Bellamy had thought to do with Russell when he discovered what he had done to Clarke, but he would never find that out, since she was stopped by Jade, who drew a sword and pressed it against her throat.

" _Mom!_ " Clarke screamed in despair.

And suddenly, everything was silent.

Abby stopped short, looking at her daughter with a mixture of disbelief and hope; Raven seemed lost, one arm raised as if she had frozen in place the moment she tried to reach for Abby; Russell and Simone were looking at Clarke with fury and disbelief.

And Bellamy held his breath, noticing the very moment Clarke understood what she had done.

He didn’t have time to react before he saw Rufus pull Clarke by the neck and press her body against his own chest, placing a sword against her throat. He hadn’t even seen the guards approaching. But suddenly fear took over his body and he didn’t know what to do. Yes, Clarke could handle Rufus and he was positively sure that she could kill him with her bare hands; but everything seemed to fade away when all he could see was a blade pressed against her neck. A piece of steel that was one inch away from taking the life of the one he loved the most. He couldn’t think straight.

With his heart pounding painfully against his ribs, he remembered the only thing he could use at his advantage at the moment and reached into his pocket, picking up the mind drive and lifting it up so everyone could see.

"Touch her and I destroy what's left of Josephine," he said, gritting his teeth.

The silence was so deafening that he was certain he would hear a needle dropping to the floor. But inside him, his heart hammered loudly. His eyes shifted to Clarke's face, almost colorless. He knew what she was thinking: that she had sealed their fates with death for one mistake and it would be her fault. He made sure to look into her eyes and let her understand that he wouldn’t let her die. Not without a fight.

_We're still breathing._

"No, please," Russell begged, looking at the mind drive with supplication in his eyes.

"Release Clarke. Let my people go and I'll give it back. If you so much as harm a hair on her head, I swear to God I’ll make sure your daughter never comes back."

Bellamy had never felt so powerless and insecure as he did at that moment. If Russell somehow suspected that the mind drive no longer contained the life of his daughter, that Gabriel had killed her, he would have no further advantage over them. And the sword pressed against Clarke's throat required him to play a self-confident role right now. He needed to look strong, even though his knees felt weak.

 _Being strong is about fighting_ , Octavia had said. And she was right. If they had used their strength to survive the hell they had been through so far, they would keep using it. Until their last breath.

Simone looked at Russell, but he continued to stare at the mind drive between Bellamy's trembling fingers. Despair was evident in his eyes.

"Russell, we don’t have more resources to make more nightbloods. Marcus Kane took everything. Clarke is the only hope for Josie."

"Are you _seriously_ suggesting stealing her body _again_ to make room for your psycho daughter?" Octavia cried out in exasperation. She pulled a knife from her pocket and twirled it between her fingers, pointing it at Simone. "If you don’t let Clarke go now, there will be _two_ necks cut.” A guard approached her, causing her to shift her aim toward him. “What the hell, make it three."

"You're outnumbered," Jade said, holding Abby tighter.

"Well... at least I'm going to die knowing I killed two Primes. It's a good way to die, don’t you think?"

“Russell?” Simone tried again, but her husband was completely oblivious to that conversation; his gaze lost, his face defeated. Bellamy wondered if he was evaluating the alternatives, slowly understanding that there was no plan whose end would result in a host for his daughter. He finally looked up to meet Bellamy's fiery eyes.

"He won’t stop at nothing to save Clarke. Just like I won’t stop at nothing to save Josie."

Bellamy struggled to hide his fear. His mind was now trying to find ways to escape that place as soon as possible, or at least before Russell found out that Josephine was dead and there was nothing he could do to save her.

"They killed Miranda, hallowed be her name," Jade reminded him. "Is Josephine's life worth more than the others’? We avenge those who dare to blaspheme against the Primes. They have killed our people, brought shame to our gods."

Russell looked at her in astonishment, almost as if he'd forgotten she was still there.

"I..." Russell stammered. "I don’t…"

"Isn’t that what we do?" Jade challenged him, furrowing her brow.

The murmurs from the other guards grew louder, supporting Jade’s statement. And when Rufus joined the voices that swore vengeance for their so-called gods, Bellamy realized that that plan wouldn’t be diplomatic, after all. Looking at Octavia, who was closest to Jade, he tried to signal her to release Abby from the guard's grasp as soon as the fight began. With a subtle nod, she turned her eyes to the guard.

Bellamy finally looked up at Clarke and said:

"Mana gon Em don ban au shoulder." _Aim for his left shoulder._

Clarke let out a loud grunt, grabbing the handle of the sword Rufus held against her neck in a swift movement that caught him off guard and releasing herself from his grip with a kick. Rufus staggered back and Clarke turned in time to draw a half-moon into the air and hit the guard's left shoulder.

He heard Russell shouting something, but he couldn’t understand a word in the midst of chaos. In a matter of seconds, he was picking up his own knife and hoping that no more than one guard would try to fight him at a time. With a bruised leg and fighting against swords, he was at a disadvantage.

"Bell!" Octavia yelled. He turned in time to see her throwing the sword she'd managed to steal from Jade and grab it with agility. In the blink of an eye, Octavia was throwing one of the guards against the dining table with a loud bang.

One of the guards ran toward him and Bellamy blocked his advances, trying to remember the training he'd had with Echo and Raven in space. Feet apart, eyes attentive on the opponent's moves and indications that they will attack; block, duck, swerve; only attack when you’re sure to hit them.

With a nimble move, he swerved, leaning on his intact leg, thrusting the sword into his opponent's abdomen. The man screamed and backed away, preparing to strike again.

"Bellamy, behind you!" Echo shouted.

But he didn’t turn around quickly enough and was hit in the ribs. The steel pierced his skin, sending waves of pain through his body. Roaring loudly, he defended himself from the guard's movements, noticing that Diyoza was dealing with the man who had attacked him earlier. He didn’t know what she was trying to do, since she had barely managed to walk on her own through the woods before. But she kicked the man in the abdomen, just where Bellamy's sword had hit him, and knocked him down easily.

Screams echoed through the room and the terror of not knowing what was happening, whether his friends were winning or losing that battle, was agonizing. Bellamy swerved from another blow, but he lost his balance due to the injury in his leg and fell to the ground. He held the handle of his sword tightly so as not to lose it and tried to stand up, but the guard was already in his field of vision, leaning down with his sword raised, ready to end his life.

Bellamy wondered if his time had finally come. It was morbid, but he had always imagined when he would die, even as a child. He saw people being floated on the Ark and always thought that one day his time would come. _When_ was a disturbing question.

 _Is it now?_ He had lived more than a hundred years and yet, it seemed that all he had done was survive. He had so much to do, so much to say... he dreamed of peace and a place to call home, but now it was becoming clearer that he would never fulfill that dream.

In that brief second, he thought of Octavia and the relief of knowing he would at least die being sure that she loved him again; he thought of his friends and prayed silently for their lives to be spared by a miracle; he thought of Clarke and wished he could see her face one last time. That would be a good way to say goodbye to this life.

"You promised you wouldn’t die."

He frowned, watching the tip of a spear pierce the guard's stomach above him. When the man fell dead on the ground, he saw Clarke's face staring at him with determination and a bloody spear in her hands. _Was this fate’s way of giving him another chance?_ He didn’t care, he would take it. He managed to crack a smile and saw her do the same when she offered him her hand. Bellamy stood up, pressing a hand against his ribs, where he had been hit, and looked around, expecting to see someone else attacking, but finding only a sea of people on the ground. He felt he should have been relieved to see none of his friends dead — and he did — but the realization that they had once again resorted to violence made him feel small and powerless.

Looking up, Bellamy saw that Russell and Simone were still alive; Echo held the man firmly by the neck against her chest and Octavia held the woman's arms behind her back. Diyoza had leaned against one of the walls, caressing her belly with affection, — it was almost comical — while Gabriel had positioned himself in front of Abby and Jackson, as if protecting them.

"Where are Indra, Raven and Ryker?" Clarke asked, standing next to him.

Bellamy searched frantically for their friends and the only Prime who could have helped them, but couldn’t find them anywhere. 

"Jade!" Simone exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention to the woman struggling on the floor. There was blood dripping from her arms and legs, but she managed to get up. Octavia looked at Gabriel as if waiting for him to take care of that problem, but he simply shook his head.

"No," Russell pleaded, looking specifically at Bellamy. "Please... you're going to die for it," he argued. Echo tightened her grip around his neck and he tried to wrench her wrist away, failing miserably. "There's an army outside. Give me the mind drive and get out of here. _Please_."

"Russell," Gabriel called out. "You know this is wrong. You can stop that."

"It was _your_ leader who started all this, did you know that?"

"Yes, I know my own story, Russell. And I'm here to fix my mistake."

Russell stared at him as if he was seeing a ghost. And maybe he was; a ghost of the past, a memory of what he had begun and had no strength to finish.

" _Gabriel?_ " he whispered.

"When I tried to do the first procedure with Josephine's mind drive, I was blind. I didn’t want to lose her, I thought that was the only option. But when the only option results in the murder of a human being... it is no longer an option. We destroyed the lives of so many people. I'm not better than you, Russell. I'm as guilty as you are. And I know that all you did was out of love. Me too. But you're killing people, you're brainwashing them, making them think you're gods. This is wrong."

High sobs broke the tension of that moment and Bellamy turned to see Abby being comforted by Jackson, who hugged her affably. She had just lost the love of her life and was about to lose her own daughter just a few seconds ago. He knew the feeling all too well.

"I can’t lose her..." Russel said; his voice, once so haughty and certain, breaking down. "Clarke was the only way... I..."

"Josephine died," Gabriel recalled. "She died a long time ago. Let her rest."

"I can’t, I—"

"My name is Ryker Desai," a voice interrupted Russell's speech and everyone raised their heads to find its source. A loud buzz denounced the use of the microphone on the main balcony, the same one that Russell had used to make a speech just a few days ago. "And as you all know, I'm one of the Primes."

"What is this foolish boy doing?" Simone asked, grumbling as Octavia tightened her hand around her wrists.

"Quiet."

"For many years Russell Lightbourne spread the message that we were gods, that some of you were born with a special purpose. You were created with the conception that those who have blood of a different color are commanded by the deities for the sole purpose of serving the Primes."

"Russell..." Simone cried out.

"I swear to God I'll break your fingers if you don’t stop talking," Octavia murmured.

"This is all a lie," Ryker continued.

Even inside the castle, Bellamy could hear the tumult outside; the voices mingling and asking each other what was happening and what Ryker was talking about.

"We are _not_ gods. We are human. At least we _were_. Our minds were transferred to drives that, when inserted into a person with nightblood, started to function again. These people, the hosts you celebrate… they’re _dead_. Their minds are turned off, they can’t see or feel any of you. They _don’t remember_ you. Because they’re not here anymore."

The voices at the courtyard were altered now, there were screams and clutter outside. Bellamy looked at Clarke and saw her looking at Russell with resentment. The man showed no emotion, though a solitary tear ran down his cheek.

"Russell told you that your loved ones, your relatives, your children, your brothers and sisters... that they’re still inside. _This is not true_."

" _Death to the Primes!_ " someone shouted from the outside.

Simone shifted, trying to break from Octavia's grip, who only let out an angry groan.

"Can you stop that already?"

"They're going to kill us!"

"Oh... would you look at that? You said they were going to kill _us_ just now," Diyoza commented. “Now that’s some high-quality ironic plot twist.”

Outside, Ryker was trying to restrain the citizens of Sanctum, but Bellamy wasn’t sure how much time they had until they marched toward the execution of the Primes.

"Clarke!" Russell pleaded. "We never wanted it to end like this."

Clarke shook her head, taking a step forward.

"You were willing to hurt my kid."

"I would never do that."

"Well... forgive me for not believing that when all you do is lie."

" _Please_ , Clarke. I couldn’t lose my daughter. You understand me, I know you do."

"Your daughter is _dead_ ," Bellamy revealed. "For good, this time."

" _No!_ " Simone cried. "No, it can’t be. No!"

The screams outside intensified to the point that Bellamy could no longer understand what Ryker was saying into the microphone. He placed a hand on Clarke's arm and she stared at him with a silent plea in her eyes. _What do I do?_

Once again, the weight of the world was placed on her shoulders. Bellamy swallowed hard and his eyes softened over her frightened face, torn between following Monty's advice — being the good guys — or doing what was best for her people.

"We make the rules now," he said, remembering what she had told him when they began their partnership, still on Earth. The scenario was similar: at the time, Murphy pleaded for his life after threatening Charlotte's, just as Russell did now. Clarke nodded, thanking him silently. She covered his hand with hers briefly, as she had done so many years ago when he consoled her after finishing the list of the hundred lucky names before the Praimfaya, and then turned to Russell and Simone.

"You're free to go," she announced, getting negative reactions from their friends.

"What?" Octavia complained. "You’re just gonna let them go?"

"You can go anywhere outside Sanctum. You’re gonna live one last time, knowing that you lied and killed innocent people for your own desires for nothing."

"The Children of Gabriel will kill us," Simone said, widening her eyes as she looked up at Gabriel, who held her gaze with what seemed to be compassion. “They’ll kill us!”

"Well, then I suggest you hide well," Clarke replied.

"You can’t do this, Sanctum is _ours_."

"You can stay if you‘d like. But there's an army coming and they want your heads. Literally."

"Another fun episode of 'take your pick'. I like it." Octavia let go of Simone's hands and pushed her forward. Echo did the same with Russell. As Simone looked around, uncertain about what she should do next, Bellamy saw Russell walking toward him utterly desolate.

Without saying anything, Bellamy searched for the mind drive inside his pocket, stretching his hand to the other man and placing the object in the palm of his hand. Somehow, he couldn’t help feeling a trace of compassion, of understanding. He still hated him for putting Clarke in danger, for entertaining the idea of hurting Madi and their people. But the refusing of the possibility of life that Clarke offered him, the way in which he held the only remaining piece of Josephine, painted him in a completely different light: he did it all out of love. Wrong? Yes. Insane? Certainly. But there was something poetic in the surrender of Russell Lightbourne, who now decided to end his life — once believed to be immortal — because there was no longer a prospect of life without Josephine.

"I'm sorry," he said, the pain creeping into his voice.

"It’s not me you should be saying this to," Bellamy retaliated, and Russell turned his face to Clarke, crying.

"Love blinded me."

Clarke shook her head.

" _Power_ blinded you. This is just the consequence of it."

"Russell!" Simone approached him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not leaving this place," he said, pressing his fingers around the mind drive and bringing it to his chest. "I'm not leaving."

"We have to go _now_.”

"I’m _not_ leaving," he repeated in a desolate whisper.

Simone stared at him in terror. For a moment, she seemed to contemplate the idea of staying with her husband and ending that cycle permanently. However, the moment she realized the implications of that choice, — and heard the sounds of heavy footsteps outside, probably heading to that exact room — she turned around and ran off toward a side door, fading behind her.

"Wow, that’s cold," Diyoza mumbled.

Bellamy flinched when a hand reached for his shoulder. It was Echo. Octavia and Gabriel were right behind her.

"We'll find the others."

"Where's Madi?" Clarke asked.

"In the east wing tower."

"We'd better get out of here before we're trampled by the bloodthirsty people coming this way," Octavia added, running toward the same door Simone had used to escape.

"Are you okay?" Echo asked, noticing the blood drenching Bellamy's shirt.

"Yeah, go help Octavia. I'll be fine."

She nodded and squeezed his shoulder, turning to follow Octavia's footsteps. He noticed that there was nobody else in the room besides him, Clarke, Gabriel and Russell now. He had no idea when the others had escaped. Gabriel had placed himself next to his old companion, his eyes were glued to the mind drive the other held so greedily next to his heart.

"You're doing the right thing."

"You _killed_ her," Russell accused, letting a tear trickle down his face.

"I did the right thing, too."

"Gabriel, we need to go," Bellamy said.

But the man only shook his head, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"No. This is how it should end."

" _No_." Clarke stepped forward, determined. "I won’t let you do this. You saved my life, Gabriel."

"And what is that compared to the lives I took?"

"You're finding your redemption. What you did is in the past."

"Yet it’s still in my memory."

" _I know._ Do you think I don’t see the faces of the people I’ve killed every time I close my eyes? Because I do. But those are things that I can’t change. And all I can do now is try to be better. _You're_ doing the same thing."

Gabriel shook his head again.

"I don’t deserve redemption, believe me. But the fact that you're trying to tell me that I do is commendable. You're a better person than I am, Clarke. Go. Live. Make them tell a different story. "

" _No._ "

"Clarke," Bellamy called out. "We gotta go."

The sounds of footsteps grew closer and closer, and the screams blended into an unintelligible cacophony. He wanted Gabriel's life to be spared as well — that man was responsible for Clarke being alive and leaving him to die was the last thing he wanted to do. But he knew, just by looking into Gabriel's eyes, that this was what he wanted. Suddenly, he felt a few years younger, trying to persuade Jasper into leaving Arkadia and accompanying him to the bunker.

There was nothing he could do to convince him. Jasper died, because that what was he wanted.

But now an army was about to break in and they had no time. Clarke knew that too, but the look of helplessness that she gave Gabriel was devastating.

"Thank you," she said. Gabriel only nodded once and smiled.

Bellamy pushed Clarke to the side door, casting one last glance at the unexpected friend he had made the day before. But he was facing Russell now, hands on the old man's shoulders, as if trying to comfort him.

Closing the door behind him, Bellamy tried to swallow all the anger and frustration he felt as he ran alongside Clarke down the long corridor of the castle wing. He never wanted to start another war, never wanted to hold a gun again. And here they were: bleeding, making other people bleed, reopening wounds that had healed so many years ago. He let out a roar as a sharp pain struck his ribs and stood with his back to the wall, leaning forward.

"Bellamy, are you okay?"

Clarke's hands found his arms and, looking up at her, he noticed that her cheeks and neck were covered in blood.

"Are _you_?"

"Yes. Just a cut," she said, reaching for his shirt and lifting it up just enough to study the seriousness of his injury. "My God, Bellamy, you’re bleeding a lot. It may have struck some organ, I hav—"

"I'm fine,” he said, gently moving her hand away from him and adjusting his shirt, now drenched in blood. “We still need to find Madi. This is not over yet."

"No, _you_ have to find my mom. _Now._ You have to get that checked, this could be serious. I'll go after Madi and meet you later."

"I won’t leave you alone again."

"You’re hurt. You know I'm right, go find my mother and Jackson. I'll be fine."

He knew that Clarke was right; he could barely walk and if he tried to accompany her, he would only hold her back. And Madi needed her, just like she needed Madi. He nodded, straightening his body and placing a hand on his ribs again. Clarke's eyes followed that movement with concern.

"Go, I'll find Abby and you go get Madi."

She hesitated for a second, probably wondering if he would even be able to walk to find her mother, and he reached out to squeeze her wrist gently.

"Go."

Clarke sighed and nodded, turning around to run through the hall. He removed the hand covering his wound, it had turned red because of the blood. He had seen many people die in his life; many of them had been killed by his own gun. And several of them had died with a sword wound to their ribs.

Maybe, if he was lucky, no organs would have been compromised.

But then again, luck was _never_ on his side.

Gritting his teeth to the pain, he forced his legs to move, but the vertigo took over his body and he had to lean against the wall again. It was as if the adrenaline was finally coming down and he could feel the pain and the consequences of the injury he had suffered.

Bellamy growled and took another step forward, groping the wall with his hands. The hallway ahead was just a blur now and he knew he would lose that battle in a matter of seconds. He lost consciousness before falling to the ground.


	10. Chapter 10

"Here, Octavia."

"I'm not hungry."

Bellamy tried to open his eyes, but they didn’t seem to obey him; alarmed by the sudden lack of control of his own movements, he demanded his hands to move, but they didn’t even flinch. Searching for the most recent memories in his mind, he found himself reliving the moment he collapsed on the floor after leaving Gabriel and Russell to their fates.

"He's fine," Raven said, her voice coming from somewhere behind him.

"Bellamy is too stubborn to die," Murphy commented, hissing shortly after. Bellamy assumed that either Raven or Emori had punched his arm.

"Shut up, Murphy."

_Yeah, it was Raven._

“It’s true.”

"Jackson," Octavia called out. "He’s waking up."

Bellamy felt someone take his right hand and he tried to squeeze it lightly, finally managing to make his body obey his commands. He heard sighs of relief around him, which encouraged him to open his eyes to the high ceiling of Sanctum's medical room.

His hand was squeezed back and he frowned at the pain he felt right under his chest, turning his face to see his sister standing beside him. He was lying on a stretcher, with no shirt and a few tubes and needles connected to the veins of his forearms.

"O?"

She grinned weakly.

"Hey, big brother. Can you stop trying to die already?"

He would have laughed if he didn’t know it would hurt. He could feel the burning skin in the spot where the sword had pierced him and tried to raise his head to check the condition of the wound, but Echo stepped up to stand by his side and pushed him down gently.

"No sharp movements for today."

"For at least _a week_ ," corrected Jackson, appearing on Echo's side. Bellamy frowned, raising his head instinctively again and being pushed — _again_ — by Echo.

"Seriously, Bellamy, you're not well."

"I feel good," he lied. His skin burned every time he moved a muscle.

"Miller found you passed out in a hall," Octavia said. "You lost a lot of blood."

"I _really_ thought you were dead," Murphy added, and Bellamy craned his neck to see the rest of his friends. They were a few feet away, standing around another stretcher. It took him a few seconds to realize it was Jordan lying there.

"He's stable," Jackson said. "The Primes took care of him. We brought him here as soon as Octavia and Echo found him."

"Murphy was hurt, too... what happened?"

" _Abby_ happened," Murphy replied. "It hurts like hell, but at least I can walk. The good news is I won’t end up like Raven."

" _God_ , Murphy, can you shut up for a minute?" she retorted.

"Where are Clarke and Madi?"

Jackson blinked, unable to hide his own emotions. He could feel the tension that settled in the room immediately and looked at his friends in search of an answer that no one seemed to want to offer.

Suddenly, panic rose inside his chest.

"They're fine," Raven said, approaching the stretcher. "They're with Abby now. She's a little shaken up after everything."

"Kane..."

"Yes," Raven confirmed, sadly. "But let's talk about it when you get better."

"But... what happened? The Primes... how long have I been here?"

"Three hours or so," Echo replied. "You're a little weak, you need to rest."

"Ryker’s managed to calm his people down and secure this room for us," Octavia explained, ignoring Echo’s suggestion. She knew he wouldn’t rest until he was certain of everyone’s security.

"Wait... Ryker is _alive_?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Clarke can be persuasive."

"I need to talk to her," he demanded instantly, almost cutting her off. " _Now._ "

"Bellamy, you need to rest—" Echo argued.

"No. I need to talk to Clarke," he insisted. His last memory was falling on the ground after leaving her alone to find Madi and although his sister had assured him of her being well, he needed to see it for himself.

"Maybe you should just… you know, leave it for later," Miller tried, shifting between his feet.

That was enough to leave him uneasy. They were deliberately trying to talk him out of seeing Clarke and at that realization, his mind was already spinning, coming up with reasons — all bad reasons that ended up with Clarke being in danger — why they would do it.

"Is something going on?"

"Oh... yeah,” Murphy quipped, “the blood that was supposed to be _inside_ your body is _outside_ right now."

Bellamy turned his eyes to Jackson. Out of all his friends, he was the only one who couldn’t lie even if his life depended on it. He figured Bellamy's plan out and pretended to look for something in a medicine cabinet.

"What happened?" he asked, demanding his own voice to sound as calm as possible. However, when no one made any movement or even looked up at him to answer his question, he raised his voice: " _What the hell happened?_ "

Octavia squeezed his hand again and he stared at her, seeing the very moment she took a deep breath and stared at him with unusual softness.

 _No_.

"Clarke... had Josephine inside her mind for far too long. When she arrived with Madi… she was fine."

" _Was?_ " He let out a sharp breath, ignoring Octavia’s and Echo’s efforts to stop him when he pulled his hand from inside his sister’s and forced his body to sit up, clenching his jaws to the excruciating pain that struck him. “We killed her. We killed Josephine, I… we _killed her._ ”

"Hey, calm down," Raven said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He almost flinched. They were being cryptic about Clarke’s state; how could she even entertain the idea of him being calm right now? "She's fine, physically."

"What the _fuck_ does that mean?"

He saw his friends glancing uneasily among each other; the only person who dared to face him steadily was his sister. With his heart pounding dangerously close to his throat, he wondered if he had made Abby waste her time fixing his heart if he was just about to damage it once again.

"Clarke is losing her memory gradually," Octavia blurted out. Just like that. He was almost sure he could hear his own heart beating everywhere. His ears, his fingers, his legs, his damn wound. He wondered if his stitches could open with the strength of his heartbeats.

" _What?_ No. _No_. We did it. We killed Josephine, we... we took her out before she could... we killed her, Octavia. _We killed her_."

By the way Octavia’s face was contorted into a slightly alarmed semblance, he figured she wasn’t expecting him to be so desperate.

"Gabriel said he couldn’t have foreseen that. He and Emori are with her now."

" _Gabriel?_ "

"The Good Prime managed to get him out of the room before he was killed," Diyoza explained, referring to Ryker. He thought the Prime would be dead by now.

Bellamy closed his eyes for a moment, hysterically trying to calm himself down — a paradox that summed up his life — in order to be able to come up with a solution. He hadn’t been through hell in the last few years just to let Clarke forget who she was. Who _he_ was. The mere idea of Clarke looking at him without recognition was painful. After all that she had conquered, after all they had lived, it just wasn’t fair. And fate had a comic way of showing just how unfair it was to them.

"Gabriel will know what to do," he said, opening his eyes. "And Sanctum has more resources, they can try t—"

"We destroyed everything," Raven interrupted him, her tone bashful and somewhat repented.

Bellamy stared at her in confusion, and she averted her eyes at Jackson, who was still pretending to look for something around the room; he was checking a package of disposable gloves now. Raven took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to look back at him.

"When you guys were talking back in that room, Ryker took me and Indra outside. While he revealed the truth about the Primes and Indra called for backup for him in the ship, I went to their lab. I destroyed all the equipment to make sure they couldn’t do it anymore."

Like that sandstorm that he had witnessed once, which caused a disaster with no warning, Bellamy felt all the hope he had gathered during his life flee from his body unannounced. It was as if he was drowning, but he knew it was no use to swim, because the current would only leave him tired. He’d drown anyway. Only this way would be faster.

"I'm so sorry, Bellamy," Raven whispered, regretful. "If only I’d known…"

"She saved you all," he whispered back between his teeth. "She saved _me_. She had to listen to all of you blaming her _over and over_ again for saving your _fucking_ lives and now..."

Those three dots were filled with so much anger, frustration and fear that he decided to stop his speech before he started saying things that could hurt them. Deep down, however, he _wanted_ to hurt them. He _wanted_ them to hurt, because maybe then, they could feel at least a small part of what Clarke had to endure from them for such a long time.

At the same time, he knew that Raven was not to blame for this specific situation. He was certain of her good intentions when she destroyed the lab — for her, that meant the end of a vicious and cruel cycle; but for him, at that moment, it meant the loss of his hope, the only chance for Clarke to not lose her identity.

"I know," she murmured.

"I want to talk to her," he repeated in a cold voice, looking at Octavia now. She would know. _She knew._ Looking into his eyes and seeing the melancholy consuming him, she _knew_. When they talked, only a few hours ago, she already knew. And it took him years to understand what was clear as crystal to the person who knew him the most in the world.

"I'll go get her."

But Echo was standing in front of her, blocking her way, two seconds after she rose to her feet.

"Octavia, what are you doing?"

"Getting you a tattoo made of blood if you don’t get the hell out of my way."

"Abby said he needs to rest. He can’t push himself too hard or something might happen."

He was positively sure that something might happen if he didn’t see Clarke immediately. Octavia thought the same.

"It _might_ if I don’t find Clarke soon. So, get out of my way and get everyone out of here before I get back."

Judging by Echo's taut jaw, he thought that the request he’d made to Octavia wouldn’t help her bond with his sister. Echo stepped aside reluctantly and let Octavia pass.

"We're going... to a less awkward place," Murphy said, limping to the door with Raven's help. Miller and Diyoza followed, and Jackson hesitated before saying he would be at the door if Bellamy needed anything.

Echo came to stand beside his stretcher with a restrained expression. If he wasn’t so debilitated, she would probably act in a colder way. With reason. He deserved that treatment after everything he had found out. Maybe his intentions hadn’t been those, but that didn’t change the fact that Bellamy had deceived Echo — and himself — for three years.

"Are you sure this is the best time?" she asked.

He swallowed hard.

"I'm not sure we _have_ time to do this another time."

"Gabriel said it may be temporary. Maybe she won’t even forget anything else."

"It sounds like Gabriel isn’t sure."

And the word _maybe_ frightened him. The mere thought of looking into Clarke's eyes and not denoting the understanding and affection she had always offered him was devastating. Was that selfish? Maybe.

_There was that word again._

But losing that also meant losing what had brought those two unlikely companions together. Bellamy was sure that if they hadn’t been sent to Earth, if the Ark’s oxygen supply hadn’t been compromised, they would never have found each other. Clarke belonged to the most privileged part of the Ark and he was just a janitor who had seen his family break before his eyes. Their paths would never cross. And whenever he thought about it, he tried to imagine what it would be like to live without being sure Clarke would be on his side, without her advice and her smiles — those rare smiles that he adored. He would have spent his life without it. Maybe he would have been floated for trying to kill Jaha, just as he had done, but of his own free will this time. For hatred and for the pain of loss. Clarke wouldn’t be there to vouch for him, to convince Jaha that he deserved forgiveness, just like she had done.

 _Maybe deserving has nothing to do with forgiveness_ , Octavia had said. Maybe not. But Clarke thought he deserved it. Clarke — the girl he judged from the start, the one who had every right to hate him for everything he had done — thought he was worthy.

"Maybe it's not so bad to forget all the pain," Echo argued. And he thought that that was a good way to face the situation. But Clarke's pain had made her who she was now; her bad memories were pages of her story. Pain had freed her and saved her from Josephine, literally.

"She won’t get to choose what to forget."

Echo nodded, taking his hand in hers and staring at them with unusual serenity.

"I want to talk to you later."

"Sure. I'll probably be barred from leaving this place, anyway."

She nodded again, looking up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes. No scratches."

"None of the guards had an Azgeda training."

" _You_ had it and yet you're here."

" _Ouch_."

She smiled lightly. A knock at the door made her turn her head and Bellamy saw the muscles of her back tighten at once. When Echo moved to the side, he saw Clarke walking toward him, her eyes interweaving between the two uncomfortably. Echo turned to him again and leaned over to kiss him. It was just a peck on the lips, but he felt instantly exposed and strange, as if that gesture had been inappropriate.

"Try not to strain yourself too much."

"Okay."

Echo acquiesced and sighed, turning to Clarke and nodding once before leaving them alone. Upon hearing the noise of the door being closed, Clarke walked over to the stretcher; her eyes were glued to the bandage Abby had used to cover his wound.

"That looks better," she said softly, sitting down on the chair beside the stretcher where Octavia had been only a few minutes ago. Her eyes finally met his and he had to suppress a sigh when he realized how easily a single look from her was capable of soothing him. All the uneasiness and the fear he was feeling only a minute ago were completely gone. " _You_ look better.”

He looked at her carefully, drinking every inch of her face, and finally noticing the rectilinear cut on her right cheek. Her skin was already clean, but there were still blood stains on her hair.

“I feel better,” he agreed, and he wasn’t lying this time. His body still hurt and whenever he moved, he felt like his stitches might open up and rip his skin apart, but she was there now and none of that mattered. He wondered how he could have been so blind not to understand what the effect she had on him meant before.

 _Not now_.

She cracked a smile, so tender and gracious that he lost train of thought for a second.

"Gabriel is alive," she said, finally, breaking eye contact to stare at her hands. When she noticed a hint of dried blood on her index finger, she proceeded to try cleaning it with the hem of her shirt. “Ryker got him out of there."

"Is Russell...?"

"Dead," she confirmed, aggressively rubbing the fabric of the shirt over her finger now. His eyes were watching her fight against the bloodstain that was clearly not going to come off, regardless of her frantic attempts. "The other Primes, too. Ryker and his mother managed to escape. I tried to appease their people, but they’re furious and—”

Bellamy stretched his hand abruptly, ignoring the pain, and reached out to pull her hand away from her shirt. Clarke lifted her head to look at him and he knew he didn’t have to look into her eyes to know how much she was struggling with what they had done. _Again_. But he studied her eyes, anyway, because he was always able to read her better when he did it. Or maybe he just loved to do it. 

“I just… don’t know if I did the right thing. Whenever I try to do something... it always seems wrong," she said.

Bellamy pulled their joined hands to him and she stared at it for a moment with overflowing vulnerability. It wasn’t like him to touch her so casually, they both knew that; his eyes searched for hers patiently and he only spoke again when she looked up.

"You didn’t do it alone,” he reminded her. “And whatever choice we made would feel wrong. It would either end up with them dead… or _us_. Maybe both sides."

She nodded, but didn’t seem to be convinced.

“Clarke… _they_ brought this on themselves. Ryker told their people the truth, they came for the Primes. That would happen eventually. Russell had a chance to live, he chose not to.”

“But the guards…”

“Jade would’ve attacked, even if Russell had tried to stop it. Rufus had a _sword to your throat_ , Clarke. You can blame this on me if you want. But if we hadn’t fought, you’d be dead now.” He noticed he had started to draw invisible circles across her knuckles, unwittingly. It was like his body had a life of its own. “And I did that once. I thought you were dead for six years. I wasn’t about to do that for real.”

Clarke’s eyes flickered with a hint of astonishment, but she blinked quickly and shook her head. He thought he had said that before.

“And you saved me. _Again_. That must count for something,” he teased.

“Now we’re even.”

“Yeah. So don’t you even get any ideas. I’m done saving your life.”

Clarke bit the inside of her lip to suppress a smile, but failed five seconds later. For a few seconds, he lost himself in that smile, imagining that this moment perfectly translated their lives. Both bruised, exhausted and trying to lift the other up. But the smile faded away too quickly and Bellamy watched her eyes begin to water as she looked at his bandages.

"I thought you... I... when I came in here and saw you on the stretcher, I thought you..."

"I’m fine."

"The last time you said that, Miller found you passed out.” With a humorless chuckle, she sighed. “I still remember _that_."

"Clarke?" he called softly. She looked back at him again. "We'll find a way."

By the way she looked away again, he knew she knew exactly what he was talking about. Clarke said nothing for a few seconds, and he waited patiently until she could find her own voice.

"I can’t remember her. _Madi_. It's like my mind is blank. I was helping mom with your stitches and when I looked back and saw her standing next to Jordan, I… I didn’t know who she was. And the look on her face when I asked what she was doing there... when she realized I had no idea who she was…” Clarke swallowed hard, clearly frustrated with herself. “I want to remember, I… I just want to remember."

"You will."

"You know that's not true," she denied, still avoiding his eyes.

"Clarke, we didn’t go through all of this to give up now."

"Gabriel can’t help me. Not without the equipment they had here. It's helpless. And he's done too much for me, you've _all_ done too much for me."

" _No._ "

"Bellamy—"

" _No_ ," he repeated, squeezing her hand tighter. "We took a damn person out of your mind, do you really think we won’t be able to stop a simple memory loss?"

It wasn’t funny, but she laughed. Against grief, insecurity and fear, she laughed softly, sending waves of heat through Bellamy's body. As the sweet sound of her laughter faded into a sigh, she looked at him again.

"You know… when we left Mount Weather and I said goodbye to you… as I was walking, I thought it’d be great to just be able to forget everything I had done. And now it's happening and I'm _so_ scared." Her voice was barely a whisper now, filled with agonizing terror.

"Clarke..."

She shook her head to him, as if telling him she was fine when she was clearly _not_.

"There's _so_ much pain in here, Bellamy. You know that, you saw everything. But if I forget everything, then what’s left? What do I become? What if I forget about everyone? What if I forget all the people who served on our side, who sacrificed themselves for our people? I don’t want to forget my mom or my dad. I don’t want to forget our friends. I don’t want to forget you."

 _Me neither._ He didn’t sound so selfish now that she had confirmed his worst fear as one of her own. He allowed himself to feel a little privileged knowing that she thought him to be important enough not to be forgotten. Bellamy sighed.

"So let's make sure it doesn’t happen."

She refuted that suggestion by shaking her head once again. 

"I'd rather spend the rest of the time I have with my memories with all of you. _Not_ looking for a nonexistent solution. And maybe... maybe I won’t forget everything."

"Clarke..." he said again; her name seemed to come out of his lips involuntarily, automatically, like it was second nature. It sounded like begging, but he didn’t even know what he was begging for — for her life, for her to listen to him, for her to stop trying to convince him that her way was better. Maybe it was all of it.

The way her eyes pierced his made him suffocate his own words, though. There was so much he wanted to say now, but that would only prove him to be even more selfish than what he had originally thought. Why would he tell her everything that was stored inside him right now, when she had more important things to worry about? But part of him feared that she wasn’t right and that she would, indeed, forget about everything — including him. And letting her forget about him without having the chance to tell her he loved her was heartbreaking.

"What?" she asked softly, as it took him too long to continue. He remembered finding himself in a dilemma like that one many years ago.

 _Clarke, if I don't see you again..._ , he had said. He didn’t know how that sentence would end, but Clarke took care of it for him. _You will_ , she said. And now he wondered what he would have said if she had allowed him to continue. Would he have discovered, at that moment, that he loved her? Or would he just have brushed those feelings aside, as usual, and convinced himself that missing her wouldn’t hurt so much?

Now, he wanted to finish that sentence. _Clarke, if I don’t see you again or if you forget me completely... I love you._ And what would that do for the both of them? What would she say? What would _he_ do when she lost her memories and those words remained in his brain, haunting and taunting him forever?

"Bellamy?"

 _Just say something,_ he commanded himself, because he was fully aware of her eyes staring at his face, expectantly.

"I... I need you, Clarke."

She had said those words to him before, countless times. But she didn’t mean it like _he_ meant it. He didn’t need her just to be a leader by his side; he didn’t need her just to make decisions and be his friend. He needed her because she was Clarke and needing her was just part of his nature, part of who he was; because without her, there would only be emptiness. He knew that. He _lived_ that for six years.

He needed her so much that his body hurt, that his heart ached, that his hands were now both covering hers as if that was enough to protect her from the rest of the world. He never thought he could understand a word so clearly like he understood the word _need_ now.

Clarke blinked as if she had just come out of a trance. Bellamy didn’t understand which part of his selfish confession had surprised her, since it wasn’t exactly a confession: he had said the same thing a few hours earlier.

Suddenly, it dawned on him.

"You... already knew that. You remember I said that before, right?"

She blinked again, frowning.

"When?"

"Today. I said that today right after we talked about your memory."

"I don’t... I don’t remember that," she confessed. "Were we together before you got to Sanctum?"

Bellamy swore he could feel every muscle in his body tensing. It hurt everywhere, as if he had just been hit in the head. Or the chest. His heart was beating painfully fast now. He swallowed, trying to find calm inside the storm happening inside him.

"What's the last memory you have?"

A crease appeared on her forehead as she struggled to remember.

"Uh... Octavia telling me you wanted to see me. Before that... my mom. She was crying. Someone from our people died. But I don’t know him."

"Kane?"

"Yes."

He closed his eyes for a few seconds and nodded. Opening them again, he looked at her determinedly.

"You'll remember Madi. You'll remember Kane. And if you forget about me, I'll make you remember again, too. I said I wouldn’t give up on you and I was telling the truth."

"Bellamy..."

"It's _not_ hopeless, Clarke. We won’t give up now.”

Even though he knew Clarke was struggling within herself at the moment, he could see the gratitude in her eyes. Maybe she was finally understanding that he was on her side, no matter what. Clarke had received so much negativity and rejection from their friends that she had grown accustomed to the idea of being alone forever. He had already told her that he would always be by her side, but she couldn’t remember it now. It wasn’t her fault, but it hurt.

He would continue to remind her about that for the rest of his life, if need be. The intensity of his gaze should be enough for her to know that. Clarke leaned in abruptly, as if it had been a thoughtless movement and she needed his full attention for whatever she was about to say next. He could feel her breath on his face now — and it was funny, because he couldn’t feel _himself_ breathing now.

"Bellamy, I need to say something before I fo—"

Clarke's speech was interrupted just as the lab door was opened in a burst. Octavia and Gabriel stormed into the room side by side, agitated and uneasy.

"We need to get back to the woods," Octavia announced, plainly.

Bellamy frowned, puzzled and slightly irritated by the interruption. Clarke had something to say and he wanted to listen. Maybe it was his way of conforming himself to the fact that he, too, had something to say and didn’t have the courage to do it. Or maybe it was that minuscule bit of hope, hidden in the darkness inside him, that she might want to say the same words as him. 

"Why?" he asked.

"Not you. _Clarke_."

"There's nothing we can do for your memory here," Gabriel said, looking at Clarke warily. "But maybe there's another way to help you."

"How?"

"The anomaly," Octavia replied.

" _No_ ," Bellamy denied, suddenly consumed by fear and terror once again. He looked at Gabriel with aggravation. "You said people don’t get out of there."

" _I_ did," Octavia recalled. "And Diyoza, too."

"Two people out of hundreds. That's a good percentage," he retorted ironically.

"How do you think this can help me?" Clarke asked.

Bellamy looked at her with a frown.

"Clarke, you can’t be seriously thinking about doing this."

"If it's the only way to get my memories back and stop the others from fading away, then yes."

"The anomaly healed my arm," Octavia said. "I got out of there clean, with longer hair, healthy."

Clarke pulled her hand from Bellamy’s and stood up. He cursed himself mentally for being too injured to stand up and shake her by the shoulders so that she could mind his words and understand the danger she was walking into. It was like she was drawn to danger.

"Then let's go."

" _Clarke_ ," Bellamy called desperately, his hand stretching in the futile attempt to reach her; she was already by Octavia's side. " _Think_ about this."

"I did. You said you wanted to find a solution, Octavia and Gabriel found one."

" _Octavia and Gabriel_ have no idea what's going to happen to you."

"I trust them. I _have_ to."

Bellamy gritted his teeth, refusing to trust Clarke's life to the uncertain. Her face was blurred from the tears he was trying to hold back now. Minutes ago, all he wanted was a plan to help her recover her memories and prevent the rest of them from fading away; now that they had one, all he wanted was another plan. One that didn’t involve her getting inside a supernatural occurrence that may or may not take her away forever.

He’d rather have her by his side not remembering him than dead.

"You may never come back," he whispered, his words sounding like a plead.

Clarke blinked, tilting her head to the side.

"Well... it's a risk I need to take."

"Clarke, _please_."

Maybe that same selfish part of him wanted her to prefer to live without her memories and by his side than to enter the unknown and never return. No, not maybe. _Definitely._ It was uncontrollable, however; and Bellamy knew it would be terrible for him to say it out loud. But it was true. He was just tired of it; he was tired of thinking about losing Clarke so often. It hurt.

"Bell, she's gonna be fine," Octavia assured him.

"You can’t know that," he replied harshly, regretting it the next second. But Octavia wasn’t startled by that reaction. He furrowed his brow, pleadingly. "O…"

"I know," she said. _I know you love her._ "And that's why I'm saying she's gonna be fine. Do you remember what I said? Diyoza was right about Ryker. But she saw other things in the anomaly and she said that Clarke needs to get there. It's the _only_ way. Trust me."

Bellamy felt his entire body trembling; he was grateful that the monitor controlling his heartbeat emit no sound, otherwise they would be tortured with a steady, accelerated beep. He wanted to believe in Octavia, he wanted to trust her plan blindly; but it was Clarke's life at stake and he didn’t know how to be confident knowing that.

"I assume I won’t be able to go with you," he guessed, clenching his fists. The needles on his left arm stung.

"Yes," Clarke agreed, catching his gaze with a small smile on her lips and a promise that didn't make him less scared: "I’ll come back."

He clung to her eyes until the last minute, wondering if this would be the last time he’d see it. If only he could go with them… but there they were again: it always came down to him leaving her alone in situations like that one. Praimfaya was still fresh in his mind.

"I'll hold you to it," he said.

Clarke nodded once and turned around, walking toward the door.

"Stay safe, big brother," Octavia said, before following Clarke alongside Gabriel.

And he prayed silently for _her_ to be safe, because there was not the slightest possibility that he would stay sane until she was back. It was as if they were joined by fate, continuously, for the sole purpose of being separated again. It was a relentless dance which he, ironically, was tired of. He just wanted a few moments of peace — or _a lifetime_ of peace. He had spent so much time away from Clarke that the only desire he had was that she could simply stay by his side, drawing on her sketchbook, teaching Madi how to fight, telling him stories of her time in Shallow Valley and learning to love herself as much as he loved her.

Maybe one day they would be able to do that.

_Maybe._

He didn’t hate that word anymore.


	11. Chapter 11

There was a clock on the white lab wall. It made no sound, and Bellamy wondered if that was a good thing, for the guttural silence of the place made room for the thoughts and worries he wanted to keep out of his mind. However, he was certain that the situation would be the same even if the clock was emitting an unnerving ticking.

It had been two hours already.

In the rare moments when he managed to look away from the hands that didn’t seem to move — at one point he even suspected they weren’t working anymore — he looked at Jordan, just to make sure he was breathing.

Jackson had returned to the room shortly after Clarke, Octavia, and Gabriel left; Abby was with him this time and Bellamy only spoke in monosyllables, afraid to hurt her with some comment about Kane. She didn’t say much either; checking on Bellamy's bandages, she only mentioned that he would recover quickly if he rested for the next few days, forcing a smile he didn’t take as an offense because he was sure she was happy to see him well.

Soon they left and he was left alone with his own thoughts once again. He was sure he would lose his mind if he continued to be immersed in that dying idleness. It was when Diyoza appeared, casting an amused smile his way and sitting on the chair beside his stretcher.

"What's the occasion?" he asked curiously when she simply stared at him in silence.

She leaned over the back of the chair and rested her hands comfortably on her belly.

"Didn’t I tell you?"

"What?"

"I'm pregnant. It's a girl."

Bellamy would have smiled if he wasn’t so overwhelmed by nervousness and fear. Diyoza noticed. She lifted a hand and patted him on the shoulder.

"Right now, this room is the quietest place in Sanctum."

"What’s going on?"

"Well... The Good Prime is still meeting with some people inside, including your friends. The rest of the people are outside, waiting for instructions. I needed a little silence."

"There's enough of it here," he confirmed.

"But I think you need the opposite of silence now," she guessed. Bellamy looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "She's gonna get out of there."

"How are you so sure? It's been over two hours."

"I stayed there for over _ten_."

"That's not as comforting as you think."

Diyoza grinned.

"Trust me, big guy. I was right about Ryker, wasn’t I?"

He shifted uncomfortably on the stretcher, regretting having laid down again. That conversation would be much better if he could look at Diyoza head-on to understand that story everyone had been telling him about.

"What happened there? With the anomaly?"

Diyoza turned in her chair, tilting her head back for a moment to study him with interest.

"I saw a lot of things."

"Very specific," he grumbled, to which she let out a low chuckle.

"Well, what I saw _wasn’t_ very specific. It was a series of moments, like a montage of scenes from the future. That’s why it took me a while to figure out what might help Clarke. I’m still wrapping my mind around everything I saw."

"So it's true, you really saw the future?"

"Yes. It started with a vision of Sanctum, then that guy Ryker and all of us escaping alive."

"That doesn’t make any sense."

"If you haven’t noticed, nothing that we’ve experienced so far has made any sense."

He agreed with a low noise. Diyoza looked down at her belly, stroking it gently. It was almost like seeing a bizarre sweet version of the woman who could kill a man with her bare hands in the blink of an eye.

"I saw Hope, she was about five, but she was big and healthy. She's beautiful," she added, a smile appearing on her lips.

Bellamy gave in, grinning at the soft movement of her hands on her belly. It was unusual to see a little serenity and hope amid chaos.

"Do you wanna feel it?"

He looked up at her, temporarily confused.

"My belly," she explained, not bothering to wait for an answer before taking Bellamy's hand and positioning it in the center of her belly. For a moment, he felt uneasy: the only belly he had ever touched was his mother's, and the memory made him sad. But little by little, he grew accustomed to that moment, and his eyes widened when he felt something nudging the palm of his hand. He met Diyoza's gaze with a stunned smile.

"She's kicking."

"Can you blame her? The child’s been in there for over a century."

Bellamy laughed under his breath and pulled his hand.

"You must be relieved."

"Yes." She sighed cheerfully and tilted her head, studying Bellamy's distressed expression. "Hey, I said I saw my daughter. I wouldn’t lie about that. You believe me, don’t you?"

"Yes."

"Clarke's coming back."

"Did you see her in the anomaly?"

"I saw _all_ of you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Even the doc. Gabriel, I mean. Octavia didn’t believe me when I said he wasn’t dead until the bastard appeared in this room looking like a conqueror."

He couldn’t stop thinking about how bizarre it was: believing the word of the woman who had once conspired against him, hurt Clarke, and was now telling him that she knew about their future. But he was in no position to deny a little bit of hope.

"When you saw Clarke... did she still remember..." _Me?_ "...all of us?"

"I saw Clarke getting into the anomaly and coming back to Sanctum. The first thing she did in that vision was look for you and Madi, so I'd say she remembered _you_. All," she added with the shadow of a smile that made him feel exposed. Was he that obvious? Had everyone always known, except him? Except _her_? It didn’t matter, because he knew now that Clarke would return, still remembering him.

"I saw it even further, as you can imagine. Hope was playing in the garden, here in Sanctum; Madi was chasing after her.”

Bellamy smiled at the scenario, his chest weighing a ton less. Did that mean that Sanctum would be their home? That they would finally live in peace in a world where Diyoza’s daughter, the literal embodiment of hope, could play freely? Where Madi could be a normal child and not be dominated by the responsibility of being a commander? Where they could start over, have a chance at happiness?

"I saw Octavia, too, she was smiling. I don’t think I've ever seen her smile," she murmured.

In her defense, Bellamy also didn’t remember seeing her smiling in a long time. _I just want to be happy_ , she had said. Knowing that her wish would be fulfilled was fascinating.

"I saw you and Clarke leading together. Kane once told me that you two took care of your people from the beginning. I trust this is good news for us."

He smiled with mirth; although he didn’t particularly miss the dangers of the Earth and the disagreements with the grounders, he missed the leading with Clarke. It was as if they had been born for that: ruling side by side, taking each other’s pain and lifting each other up. It felt right.

"You know..." She dragged the chair closer to the stretcher and sighed, pressing her lips in a straight line into a serious countenance. "Things are going to get better. It may have taken a century, but they are."

"I believe in you."

And he did. Or at least, he wanted to. If the future was at least half of what she was telling him now, he believed in her with all his might.

Diyoza's eyes flashed with some sort of amusement, as if she was laughing at a private joke he didn’t understand.

"What?"

"She won’t say anything if you don’t _do_ anything."

"What?" he repeated.

Diyoza rolled her eyes.

"I didn’t need my vision to know how you feel about her, big guy," she said. "I knew it the moment you threatened to kill my men if I didn’t release her. Now, I'll keep my visions of the future to myself in case I need them for an eventual blackmail or something else… but you and Clarke... you were in them. Together. Happy. So, do yourself a favor and end what is keeping you from that future. She's much better at hiding her emotions than you are."

"Bellamy, are you awake?"

He looked startled at the door, searching for Echo, as if he had just been accused of a crime he hadn’t committed. Except he had. More or less. Echo entered the room and he quickly forgot the pleasant moments he had spent with Diyoza the moment he heard her laughing quietly beside him.

"I'm out, sitting makes me want to pee," she said, slowly rising and walking to the door. "Keep my wisdom in mind. I told you a hundred years give you some of that."

Echo raised her eyebrows as she took the place Diyoza had occupied only seconds ago.

"I never thought I’d see you two talking."

"That makes two of us," he murmured, still too astonished to fully understand what Diyoza had just told him. This wasn’t the best time for a conversation with Echo, but he didn’t want to tell her that — much less after Diyoza implicitly suggested that he ended that relationship as soon as possible. He was a coward.

Echo touched his wrist and Bellamy sighed, trying to push Clarke's image away from his mind. _She is much better at hiding her emotions than you are._ He knew what that meant, but skepticism made him feel stupid and he wondered if he _really_ knew what that meant. He had never looked for signs in her before; he never fully understood what he felt until earlier that day. So, how was he supposed to even consider the idea of Clarke feeling at least part of what he felt for her?

"Bellamy."

He blinked and turned his face to Echo, forcing himself to listen to her. He wasn’t sure he could engage in that conversation when his mind seemed like an irreparable mess.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and his voice sounded choked. He cleared his throat, offering a half-hearted smile. "I think I need some water."

Echo reached for a glass of water at a nearby table and brought it to Bellamy's lips carefully. He took two sips, still thinking frantically about conversation topics that deviated from Clarke, Diyoza, or the reason why the monitor beside him accused his racing heart rate.

But she had other plans.

"I saw Clarke leaving a while ago," she mentioned. "I would’ve come soon after, but Ryker requested our presence in the meeting they’re having."

"How was it?" he asked, hoping she'd forget the first part of her sentence.

"I left halfway in. But they expect Clarke to be able to help. Only Ryker and Priya are alive. Clarke persuaded their people into letting them live, at least for now. But as their victim, they believe that if she pleads for their lives, the people will let them stay in Sanctum."

"What do you think?"

"Why does it matter what I think?"

"It does."

Her lips curved into a slight smile.

"I think they're right, she can convince them all. But I don’t know if they deserve to live."

"That's the dilemma we always face, isn’t it?"

"Looks like we keep walking in circles," she agreed. "I miss the ring."

Bellamy glanced at Jordan, above Echo's shoulders. Her eyes studied his face with cunning and anticipation. Was it terrible that he didn’t miss the ring? He missed his friends, Harper and Monty, even the recipes that Monty came up with his algae. But he didn’t miss that time, because during those six years, Octavia was miles away, the faces of his friends and acquaintances were only memories and Clarke was dead.

Echo was right: he always went back to the same place, to the same _person_.

She never left his mind, no matter what. He bit his own tongue in an attempt to punish himself for thinking about that when Echo was staring at him and turned to face her.

"Diyoza was telling me about the things she saw."

"Future?" Echo managed to smile. "How is it that our lives get stranger and stranger?"

He smiled too.

"At this point, it’s already normal."

"You're right."

"The things she told me, Echo... we're going to be fine here. We're not going to need to think about the ring or the Earth or anything else, for that matter."

Her studying gaze still seemed to pierce his soul, and Bellamy had to force himself to face that look with determination. Enough with the cowardice. He had faced warriors, empires and death, but somehow, facing his own feelings seemed more difficult than any of that.

"I know this isn’t your favorite time," she said, suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"The ring. The six years in space."

He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to lie to her. But when he noticed the disappointment in her countenance, he realized that saying anything would have been better than saying nothing at all. He hadn’t agreed, but he hadn’t denied it either.

"I can’t make you deny it, don’t worry. The first few years were difficult, we all know that."

"That's not it. I have good memories of the ring."

"But the worst of them are there, too."

 _Definitely._ He had memories that haunted him to this day, but none of them matched the emptiness he still felt when he remembered the years without Clarke.

"Yeah."

She pressed her lips in a straight line, thinking cautiously about what she should say. And nothing could have prepared him for what she _did_ say next:

"You don’t have to be with me."

For exactly five seconds, he felt his own mind get empty. There was not a single thought, a single word present in it — especially now that he needed an answer. It was like looking for a needle in a desert.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don’t want to need to make excuses for you anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"When we went back to Earth, you said that nothing would change. And you were right, _nothing_ changed: Clarke was still there and you fell back into the old habits."

"Old habits?"

"And I started to come up with excuses. You were very close before we got to space, I told myself that you’d spend more time with her because you both had been apart for so long. You thought she was _dead_. It would be cruel of me to deny it to you. And then, you risked your life for her again and I thought to myself... ‘ _he would do that for any of us, it's Bellamy_ ’. You talked about her constantly and I thought it was normal because there was so much you’d missed. I made _so many_ excuses that I didn’t even realize that I was undermining myself, trying to be what I thought you wanted and ignoring what was clear from the beginning. Because it had been six years at the time, and now it's been _a hundred_ and you _still_ look at her the same way you did when I met you."

Bellamy tried to think of something to say. Ironically, now his mind was full, though filled with incoherent and unintelligible thoughts, things he couldn’t put into a sentence. Of course he had noticed that he had been distant with Echo, mentioning Clarke and spending more time with her, but all the while, he was telling himself exactly what Echo had just told him: making excuses. _She’s my best friend, I thought I’d lost her, I have to make up for the time we’ve been apart._

"I always knew, Bellamy, I'm not an idiot. If I didn’t, I’d be a terrible spy. I watch people. But I thought she was dead and you’d move on. Even when I heard she was alive, I thought you had moved on and things would be different. But that never happened. I don’t know why I thought it would ever change."

"Echo, I..." _I don’t know what to say_ didn’t seem like the proper way to end that sentence, but he really didn’t know how to respond. Because she was right, because he had been a jerk to her and because absolutely nothing had changed in regards to Clarke. "You always knew Clarke was an important part of my life."

She let out a humorless laugh.

"This is my fault, then?"

"What? _No_ , of course not!" He hastened to say, touching his wound instinctively as he felt his body tense again. "Echo, I just..." Bellamy sighed, taking his time to find the right words. But they didn’t exist. "I didn’t know," he said, finally.

Echo didn’t move, but somehow, she looked restless. Her expression was skeptical and he couldn’t blame her, because if this was someone else at the receiving end of her speech, he wouldn’t believe their words either. 

"Bellamy, I'm not stupid..."

"No, you’re not. But I’m looking at you right now and I’m telling you that I didn’t know what that meant. What _she_ meant." He shook his head and sighed again. "I didn’t know, Echo. I _really_ didn’t know until..."

She raised her eyebrows, urging him on. But why would she want to hear about the moment and the motives that led him to discover that he was in love with another woman? It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair.

“Today,” he gave in.

"It took you _three years_ to forgive me. It took you _days_ to forgive her. It's not possible that you didn’t know... you were miserable in space."

Every word was like a nudge in his soul, an almost sarcastic way of revealing that he was, in fact, an idiot. He tried to imagine what would happen if someone else had stayed behind during the Praimfaya; if Raven, for example, had been left behind. He would have blamed himself, would have cried her death for a long time. But eventually the pain would subside; he would move on with her image in his mind; the happy, the sad, the good and bad memories he shared with her. He wouldn’t feel like a part of him was dying, as he did when he thought Clarke was dead.

And he naively believed that it was natural. Because it _was_. Losing Clarke meant losing himself.

And he _did_ get lost.

"I thought I could compete," she continued, shaking her head. "Until I realized it wasn’t a competition. It never was. She’ll always be your choice." Echo lifted a finger when Bellamy opened his mouth. "And I don’t want to need to make you notice me, Bellamy. Because I deserve more than that."

"Echo." He held out his hand to her; she looked reluctant for a second, but finally accepted it. "I care about you so much. I _do._ That was never a lie. You were so good for me."

And she _was_. He couldn’t remember a single time where Echo wasn’t by his side in space whenever he felt lost; she would distract him with training sessions, stories about her past or ask him to tell _her_ stories about his own. He never did, though. Sharing that part of himself was too much, too intimate. And she didn’t mind. She was patient and caring and he was able to live a half life for those long years — it was so much more than he had expected.

"I know," she said.

"You're very important to me, I don’t want you to think that I ever hurt you on purpose, because I’d never do that."

"I know," she repeated, nodding her head. There was a shadow in her eyes, which he attributed to the feelings that she was trying so hard to hide. "You never hurt me. I did it myself. Bellamy, I'm not accusing you of anything. We won’t become enemies, I won’t curse your existence or something like that... you forgave me, you reached out to me after everything I did to you and your sister. Azgeda taught me to protect myself from everyone, _you_ taught me to open up and let myself feel. Your heart just never belonged to me."

He swallowed, squeezing her hand between his.

"I'm sorry," he said, because it was the only thing he could say right now. He could try to use fancy words and point out feelings that could ease the tension of that moment, but that wasn’t how it should end. Bellamy had never finished a relationship; he had never been involved with anyone until Gina appeared in his life, and he hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to her. Before her, there were only one-night stands. Echo was his second official girlfriend and the feeling of strangeness and closure at the breakup was very unknown to him.

"I believe you."

"You taught me a lot too, you know? And you kept me sane. Thank you."

She caught his gaze for a few seconds and shook her head, clearing her throat and pulling her hand to herself.

"I'll check on the others."

"You can stay here," he hastened to say. "I like your company."

Echo looked surprised, but recovered quickly.

"Oh... well, Murphy wanted to talk to you. And I need to eat something."

"Oh, okay. But…"

"Do you want me to bring you something to eat?"

It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to ask her, but he felt that the suggestion confirmed his doubts about where they stood now. He didn’t want Echo to stay away from him; their relationship hadn’t worked out, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate her friendship.

"Sounds good."

She nodded and rose in silence, turning around to walk to the door. Midway through, however, she stopped and waited a few seconds before looking at Bellamy again.

"Are we good?"

He smiled.

"Yes, we're good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! ❤️
> 
> So, who's excited for tonight's episode? I'm pretty sure we won't have any Bellarke scenes, but I'm so excited to see how everything's gonna play out. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to upload another one today, so stay around. Let me know what you're thinking about this story in the comments, I love to get some feedback!


	12. Chapter 12

Murphy appeared in the lab a few minutes after Echo had left.

Bellamy still didn’t know how to feel or what to think about what had just happened. A few hours ago, he could hardly face his own feelings, and now he had already acted upon them — with his heart, once again — because of said feelings. He would have waited a little longer to talk to Echo, at least until he had completely recovered; but _she_ couldn’t wait any longer and he understood her reasons. He also wasn’t sure he could keep lying to her and to himself when Clarke returned; or that he could act coherently around her, because everything was different now.

He had no idea what the breakup meant for him now; it’s not like he would suddenly drop everything on Clarke once she was back and hope she felt the same way. They both needed time — and deep down, he was wondering if he would ever muster up the courage to tell her how he felt. The fear of losing her friendship, of losing _her_ even if she was around was not something he was ready to deal with.

That's what he was thinking when Murphy sat down, lifted his injured leg with the help of both his hands and rested it on the stretcher.

"Dude, I'm beat, but you went down to a level below."

"It's good to see you too, Murphy."

He only gave Bellamy one of those ironic sneers he had learned to tolerate over the years.

"Were you worried about me?"

Murphy snorted dismissively.

"You wish."

Bellamy couldn’t define their friendship; he knew that Murphy cared for him and the fact that they both had managed to overcome everything with a I’m-sorry-I-tried-to-hang-you kind of attitude was surprising to him. Bellamy never knew what to expect from him: Murphy might betray him the next day or remain faithful, being on his side was like opening a mysterious box every day. In space, they had had six years to understand each other; it was there that Bellamy realized that Murphy was just a misunderstood and paranoid boy. He did what he thought was best for him, because he was sure someone would betray him or get rid of him as soon as the situation called for.

"How's your leg?" Bellamy asked.

"Let's just say Josephine using a knife represents pretty much the same danger as me using McCreary's gun."

Bellamy laughed under his breath, cursing himself mentally when he felt the pain strike his ribs.

"You were practically crying, Murphy."

" _Please_ , I was playing a role. Josephine needed to believe I was scared."

Bellamy's smile gradually faded, and while the amusement gave way to the doubts and resentments he still carried within himself, he turned to his friend.

"Murphy, why did you take that deal?"

He didn’t say anything at first; Murphy ran his hand under his nose, as if wiping something non-existent, and his eyes wandered the room slowly until he looked at Bellamy again.

"I don’t know."

Bellamy felt the irritation emerge in his body, but managed to control it. It wasn’t possible that Murphy had simply accepted Josephine’s offer for no reason at all. It wasn’t possible that he had almost helped her kill Clarke just for the sake of it. No reason would satisfy Bellamy, but not having one was also infuriating.

"I think you do."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Enlighten me," he challenged him, narrowing his eyes.

"I think you knew it was wrong. But Josephine was very good at persuading people. Especially someone who thinks himself disposable."

"Hmm, I think that’s _you_. If I remember correctly, it was _you_ who asked Josephine if she really thought you cared about the life of a traitor like me."

"You _had_ just betrayed us."

"Clarke did it too and you almost got yourself killed trying to save her life."

 _Touché._ The situations were completely different, but Murphy's argument was still valid. Because he knew he would save Clarke's life even if she betrayed him again, in any way. The only difference is that he _also_ knew that he could trust Clarke with his life: she would never do something like that; she would never connive and help someone else kill Murphy or any of their friends for her own benefit.

"A person's mind is full of memories."

Murphy raised his eyebrows, confused by the sudden change of subject. Bellamy kept going:

"And it has two compartments: one for good memories and one for bad ones."

" _What the hell_ are you talking about, Bellamy? I thought you were hit in the ribs, not in the head."

"I've been in Clarke's mind, I'm sure you already know that."

Murphy muttered something, nodding and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Miller mentioned this super normal occurrence."

"She has a lot of memories of you," he continued. "Lots of good ones. But she had a bad memory there too, she refused to keep it with the others." He paused for a second, trying to find some change in Murphy's countenance, but finding only his absolute concentration on what he was saying. "It was you during the eclipse. You stopped her from killing herself. She said she didn’t want to keep that memory with the bad, because the fact that you saved her was too important. She wanted to remember that. You made her find something good in one of her worst memories."

Gradually, Murphy's face turned into a mask of disbelief mixed with another feeling he couldn’t identify. He was silent, but Bellamy noticed his arms slowly loosening, as if he was too absorbed in what he had said to control what his body was doing at that moment.

"Clarke cares about you, maybe more than you know. Maybe more than you _deserve._ You blame her for so many things, Murphy. You say she took control and ruined everything around us, but whenever things were messy and nobody knew what to do, you all turned to her. Everyone demanded a solution. And whenever she _found_ the solution, you'd all say it was the wrong one. Everyone would point a finger at her. But no one would come up with a better plan. _Ever_."

Murphy remained paralyzed, eyes glued to Bellamy's face, impassive.

"She didn’t hang you," he recalled, referring to what Murphy had said to her when they were chained together in a room at their first day in Sanctum. " _I_ did it. Clarke tried to _save_ you."

"After _blaming_ me for something I hadn't done."

"Anyone would’ve come to the same conclusion. But that was the first time she saved your life. And she kept doing it, even without you knowing it. She gave in to Josephine at some point; she gave up on her body when she thought _we_ had given up on her. Still, do you know what her last request was? To let us go, make sure we were alright."

Murphy finally averted his eyes at the monitor next to Bellamy. He knew he had managed to get to him, because Murphy was not easily intimidated unless he was feeling trapped or ashamed. And right now, he was both of those things.

"I would’ve killed you that night, after Charlotte died. Clarke asked me not to do it. She was using her head; she _always_ uses her head. But when she was about to die, she used her heart. She injected herself with nightblood so that Emori wouldn’t have to do it. She sacrificed herself for all of us in Praimfaya. And you are _so_ immersed in your paranoia that you’re expendable and insignificant that you can’t see anything else besides it."

Murphy murmured something, but Bellamy couldn’t hear.

"What?"

He looked up and folded his arms again.

"I felt bad."

"Oh... well, that's comforting," he said, ironically, making Murphy scoff.

"It's easy to say that when you know everyone around you will do everything in their power to save you if you need help."

"But that's what you don’t understand, Murphy. _Clarke did it_. Even though you didn’t deserve it, she did everything in her power to save you. Because she considers you a friend and because she’d save you again without thinking twice. You’ve forgiven _me_ , why can’t you forgive her too?"

"It's easier to blame someone else than myself, okay?" he snapped, his eyes drifting back to the monitor. Bellamy continued to stare at his friend, knowing that he would return to the subject as soon as he gathered his thoughts. It had been like that in space; Bellamy would pressure him, he would speak too much and then give in, resigned. "No one’s ever been loyal to me and I always knew the problem was _me_. Because I don’t trust anyone. I learned not to trust anyone when my _parents died_ because they were ratted out for stealing a _fucking medicine_ for me."

"We've all learned the same thing. The Ark did this to us."

Murphy stared at him for a few seconds and finally nodded, the shadow in his eyes fading away.

"Listen... we've all lost someone. But this is not the Ark. We’re a family now, we can trust each other. We hated each other, Murphy. Look at us now."

"Bold of you to assume that I don’t hate you anymore," replied the other, though he was grinning. “But it’s not just that, Bellamy. You wouldn’t understand. I saw hell. I know where I’m headed when I die and Josephine offered me a chance to live forever. Do you think I’d turn that down like that?”

“Well, if you’re so scared to go to hell, then killing a friend is not exactly gonna help you not ending up there.” His eyes were insisting, but Murphy was now playing with a thread on the fabric of his pants. "Clarke’s not your enemy."

"I really _did_ feel bad," he repeated. “I took the deal when I thought she was dead. I was already in when I found out she was alive.”

"I believe you wouldn’t have gone further."

"Well... that's more faith than anyone’s ever put in me."

"That’s not true. Emori is there to prove it."

Murphy's lips curved into a genuine smile involuntarily; this happened whenever Emori was mentioned. Bellamy had never thought his friend would find anyone who he would love more than himself, but life never failed to surprise him.

"It's not easy letting the past behind," Murphy said, and the seriousness with which he said it almost startled Bellamy. It was rare for Murphy to leave his satirical, mocking behavior aside.

"No, it's not."

Murphy sighed loudly and leaned over to adjust his leg on the stretcher.

"What did you see in her mind?" he asked, suddenly.

"I don’t think I should discuss Clarke's memories with you."

"You already did that," Murphy recalled. "But I'm more curious about the experience. Enter a person's mind? _What the fuck?_ "

Bellamy chuckled under his breath, welcoming his friend's change of behavior again, which now seemed more relaxed, as if the previous conversation had never happened. He told him about Clarke’s drawings on the walls, the corridors, the friends and acquaintances he saw — careful not to say anything about Clarke's memories. He told him about the moment they killed Josephine and how he felt the weight draining out of his body when he saw Clarke alive and well when he returned to reality.

"Hey," Murphy said a few minutes of silence, "I’m sorry." When Bellamy frowned, he sighed. "If it had been Emori... I mean, if the Primes had taken her... I’d do the same thing, man. I think I'd stab you _myself_ and it wouldn’t even be in the leg."

Despite the bizarreness of that confession, he laughed. Murphy mirrored him. And they no longer mentioned the fact that Murphy had compared his relationship with Emori to his and Clarke’s.

Four painfully slow hours had passed and several people had visited him. Jackson helped him getting out of the lab for a few minutes to take a quick shower and that was basically everything he had done all day. When Echo returned with some food and his friends, he did his best not to ask them anything. He was sure everyone noticed his eyes moving to the clock on the wall every twenty seconds, but no one dared to say anything.

He asked for Madi, but Raven said she was with Abby and that he should wait a little bit more to talk to her — Madi knew Clarke had left with Octavia and Gabriel, but she had no idea about their plan.

Ryker and Priya had managed to ease the situation with their people, partly because Jade was now the head of their army and had persuaded the others into not attacking.

"Ryker said that he and Jade are very close," Raven explained. "Or used to, I guess. And even though she didn’t know about the Primes' procedures, I don’t think she’s gonna kill a friend."

Bellamy didn’t agree with what the Primes did, nor did he agree with deciding who deserved to live and die. The battle they had fought only a few hours ago had been an unfortunate consequence of what the Primes had done; it wasn’t up to him to classify it as justice. But Ryker had stopped the cycle and he thought that meant something.

It was already night when his friends left the lab, leaving only Jackson, Miller, and a sleeping Jordan behind. There were no windows in the room, but the clock hand pointing to the number nine on the wall was a reminder that Clarke wasn’t back yet.

"Hey, Jackson," Miller called, stepping closer to Jordan's stretcher. "I think he's waking up."

Jackson walked over to the boy, bending over to check Jordan's condition on the monitor and turning his eyes to him with a satisfied smile.

"It seems so."

"Hey, man," Miller said in a cheerful whisper. Bellamy couldn’t see Jordan from where he was, for Miller and Jackson blocked his vision, but he sighed with relief knowing the boy was fine.

"Can I have some water?" Jordan asked quietly; his voice a little hoarse for the lack of use. The politeness with which he had made that request amused Bellamy momentarily. He was so absurdly similar to Monty that, sometimes, it seemed like he was talking to his old friend.

Miller provided the glass of water and helped him drink quickly.

"How are you feeling?" Jackson asked.

"Well, I guess," he replied. "What happened?"

As Miller informed him about the events leading up to him being in that room, Jackson checked his wound and his vital signs. Bellamy turned his neck partially, watching with regret. Monty and Harper had asked him and Clarke to take care of their son — one more responsibility; one that he would honor and follow until his last breath as a way of thanking his friends. But at the moment, he felt that he had failed; if he had kept his eyes on Madi, none of this would have happened. And now he had failed them both.

 _What kind of example am I?_ That was the question he had been asking himself since Jordan woke him up after a hundred and twenty-five years, showing him the video that portrayed a happy piece of the life his parents had in space together. After that day, whenever he laid down in his bed at night, he wondered why Harper and Monty had entrusted their son to him and Clarke. He knew Clarke could play that part perfectly: it was no wonder Madi loved her so much. But him? He knew nothing about being a good example, about teaching, about educating. Madi only rebelled against the Primes when Clarke was not around, which meant _he_ had failed.

"Bellamy?"

He blinked to focus on Jordan, who looked at him with a faint smile.

"Hey, Jordan. How are you feeling?"

"Sore. The only time I hurt myself was when I fell down on the ship when I was seven. This hurts a lot more."

Miller and Jackson let out a low chuckle and Bellamy smiled.

"Living in space and on the ground are very different things," he replied.

"How's Madi?" Jordan asked, frowning.

"I haven’t seen her yet."

"She's fine," Miller assured him. "She's worried about you. Feeling a little guilty."

"It was _my_ fault," Bellamy mentioned, drawing his friends' attention to him.

"Bellamy, we should all have watched her more closely," Miller argued. Jordan and Jackson nodded. "And to be honest... it's not _Madi_ who did this. It was the flame."

"Which is _also_ my fault."

They didn’t say anything; Jackson opened his mouth, but he seemed to give up on saying whatever he was thinking and walked to a cabinet to look for bandages. Miller turned partially, so he could look at both Jordan and Bellamy.

"I didn’t think much about what I was doing," Jordan said. "I saw Madi going for Dalilah and just… acted on impulse."

Bellamy knew that feeling; acting impulsively — because he was the heart and it was second nature — to save the one he loved. He couldn’t think when she was in danger; and that was exactly how he had forgotten to monitor Madi once he found out Clarke didn’t have much time. Again, _what a great example he was._

"What matters is that you're okay," Bellamy said.

"How is... Dalilah?"

"She’s fine. You saved her."

Jordan smiled, closing his eyes for a moment.

"But, Jordan..."

He fluttered his eyes open again and his smile faded just as quickly.

"I know what you're going to say. It's Priya, not Dalilah."

Bellamy bit the inside of his lip, forcing himself not to say anything else. If he didn’t know so well how Jordan felt at the moment, he would have tried to argue and tell him that he should get over it. But he had been in his place; Jordan looked at Priya and saw Dalilah, Bellamy looked at Josephine and saw Clarke. It was involuntary, second nature. No matter what Josephine said, he could only see Clarke's face. And to imagine that Jordan wouldn’t have the satisfaction of having Dalilah back, as he had with Clarke, was unfortunate.

"I think you'd better rest," Jackson suggested.

"I slept for a day and a half."

"And what’s _that_ compared to the one hundred years of sleep we had?"

Jordan smirked, lifting his head just enough to look at his own body. He lifted his shirt and hissed at the sight of his own sutured skin.

"You'll barely see the scar when you heal," Jackson promised.

Bellamy knew it wasn’t true. He still had scars from all the battles he had fought. They were ugly and deformed, but he found comfort in the fact that they reminded him that he was alive. Jackson checked Bellamy's condition on the monitor, just as he had done with Jordan and said he would replace the bandages in the morning. He left with Miller as soon as the clock pointed at nine-thirty.

"Bellamy, I'm sorry I couldn’t stop Madi."

Bellamy glanced at Jordan, feeling slightly bad for momentarily forgetting that the boy was still there.

"That wasn’t your job. We’ve already established that it wasn’t your fault. _I'm_ responsible for her, I should’ve kept an eye on her."

"You're not responsible for her. We _all_ are."

He didn’t oppose to that. Technically, he _wasn’t_ responsible for Madi, but that was how he felt from the moment the little girl came into his life. Not to mention that Clarke had entrusted her security to him and this was the second time he had disappointed her.

"My mom told me this story hundreds of times," Jordan continued. Bellamy raised his eyebrows. "My father didn’t want me to know, but she’d tell me when he wasn’t around."

He laughed quietly, thinking that this was exactly what he expected Harper to do.

"She said that you did what you did so that everyone could be saved. Them, you, Clarke. And maybe it wasn’t the most orthodox way of doing things, but I understand. And my mom and dad understood it, too."

"Well... they had a positive way of looking at things."

"Oh, I know." Jordan's lips curved into a nostalgic smile. "But I know that Clarke understands it as well. That's what bothers you so much, isn’t it?

He sighed, turning his eyes to the ceiling and staring at the lamp long enough for it to darken his vision.

"She trusted me with Madi." _She trusted me twice. I failed twice._

"Why don’t you just talk to her? My dad used to say that you guys would make amends like a minute after fighting."

"Monty said that?" he asked, looking at Jordan with an amused smile, imagining his friend telling stories about them to his son.

"Believe me, I have _a lot_ of stories about you guys," he said, laughing softly and holding his hand to his abdomen, probably in pain. "I grew up with those stories. When I woke you guys, I already felt like I knew you. So, I think talking is the best thing you can do."

"Well... Clarke’s not here now."

"We have plenty of time."

He wanted to believe that was true. Bellamy still clung to Diyoza's claims to convince himself that they had more time, that Clarke would come back and he could ask for forgiveness once more. They would help Madi get rid of the flame and Sheidheda and he would promise never to leave them both alone again.

They talked for several hours, — Jordan wasn’t tired after endless hours of sleep and Bellamy didn’t want to close his eyes until Gabriel and Octavia had returned with Clarke — but by three o'clock in the morning, Jordan began to yawn. Bellamy wouldn’t stop him from sleeping, obviously, and resigned himself to fighting his own sleepiness until he was no longer able to do so.

He didn’t dream, or if he did, he couldn’t remember. It was the whispered conversation between Abby and Jackson that woke him up at exactly eight-twenty-four in the morning.

_Eighteen hours and eleven minutes._

Bellamy opened his eyes languidly and rubbed them with the back of his hands. Carefully, he sat up on the stretcher, realizing that his injury still hurt like the day before, if not more. It didn’t matter, he would leave that room today.

"Hey," Jackson said, noticing him from across the room. Abby turned to him, too, and managed to smile a little as she walked toward him.

"Did you get some rest?" she asked, carefully removing the bandages and tossing them into a metal bowl Jackson had brought. He ignored her.

"Is Clarke back?"

But he knew the answer, because if she had returned, he was sure someone would have told him the minute she stepped inside Sanctum. Abby stopped the inspection of his suture and looked up at him; he realized that she probably hadn’t had slept much longer than he had, judging by the dark circles under her tired eyes.

"Not yet."

Jackson placed a hand on Abby's arm with a comforting smile.

"She _will_."

Abby just nodded and continued to do her work. Bellamy wasn’t sure he would be able to wait another eighteen hours without going crazy. It would be impossible to even wait for another eighteen _minutes._

"I'll get you something to eat," Jackson said, setting the metal bowl on a table and leaving the room promptly. Bellamy didn’t even have the chance to say that he wasn’t hungry and that if he tried to eat something, he would probably end up throwing up.

"Abby?"

She was putting a new bandage on his skin now.

"Yes?"

"I'm so sorry."

At first she was silent, though her hands froze within inches of Bellamy's wound, as if they had forgotten what they should do. Then she stepped back and looked at him, melancholic.

"How didn’t I realize?"

" _Nobody_ did."

" _You_ did," she remarked. "I was so worried about Marcus, so focused on saving him that I couldn’t save my _own daughter_."

Bellamy adjusted himself on the stretcher, unsure of what to say to her. Perhaps she had been a bit negligent, but in her defense, no one had noticed anything wrong with Clarke until he pointed out his own doubts. And yet his friends didn’t believe him immediately.

"Are you high on some kind of freaky plant from this planet?" Murphy had asked.

"Well... I didn’t realize it at first," he argued. "Josephine was good."

She shook her head in dismay.

"No... the signs were there. I saw her writing with her right hand; I found it strange when she mentioned Marcus' health with such... indifference. But I didn’t connect the dots. And now... well, now she may never come back and I'll have lost the two people I loved the most at once."

"That's not true. Clarke's coming back."

Abby looked at him with such anguish that he was afraid of being influenced by her uncertainty. No, he had thought about it a lot during the night and had convinced himself that Clarke would come back. _No room for fear._ Suddenly, Abby took a step forward and squeezed his shoulder, cracking a small grateful smile.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For taking care of Clarke. For saving her when I couldn’t. You've been doing it for so long and I've never thanked you. And even if she doesn’t come back..." She withdrew her hand from his shoulder and blinked back her tears, "...I just want you to know that I'm grateful."

"Abby... there's no need. We take care of each other. That's what we do. It's because of her that I'm alive now."

And he hadn’t realized how true that affirmation was until that moment. If Clarke hadn’t believed in him from the start, back when he was terrified that Jaha would kill him once he landed on the ground, he wouldn’t be here. She saved him that day — from Dax, from Jaha and from himself — for the first time and she continued to do so over and over again. In every way imaginable.

Abby risked another smile, this time more evident, although a tear had already begun to trickle from her eye. She wiped it dry with one hand.

"I was so scared in that room. I wasn’t scared when I had that sword to my throat, but when that guard took Clarke, I… I was desperate."

"Me too."

The words came out so quickly, so naturally, that he was sure Abby would look at him in astonishment. But that's not what she did. Her eyes were tender on his, assertive, as if she didn’t have any doubt that he had felt the same way.

"She's a fighter," she said. "Always has been."

“Yes.”

"It's just... good to know that if something happens to me... that she has someone by her side. It's important for me to know that. And it's good to know it's you."

Bellamy didn’t have time to reply — if he had, he still wouldn’t know what to say — because Abby turned around, probably so he wouldn’t see her crying, and walked over to Jordan. There was something comforting about knowing that Abby trusted him to care for her daughter. Clarke never needed protection, he was well aware of that. Maybe he didn't always agree with her plans and the way she did things — she _did_ seem to enjoy risking her own life, after all — but he trusted her. It was just that it felt natural to him: caring for her, trying to protect her, loving her was just innate; he didn't have to think about it. He didn't need Abby's gratitude, because he wasn't doing it out of sheer loyalty or friendship; he was doing it because he wanted to.

He almost jumped on the stretcher when the lab door opened to an euphoric Jackson with a plate of food in his hands and a lively smile on his lips. He already knew what it meant before Jackson even opened his mouth, but it didn’t stop his heart from jumping in a mixture of relief and joy when the words were said:

"Clarke's here."


	13. Chapter 13

Bellamy felt a sharp pain as he stood up. The last time he had done that was to take a quick shower in the afternoon, with Jackson's help, and it had hurt like hell. It was obvious that he wouldn’t recover in a matter of hours, but right now, the possibility of his stitches popping as he groaned in pain to put on his shirt did not — in any way — affect his decision to leave that room on his own and go to meet Clarke.

The morning sun was warm as he took the first step into the courtyard; staggering with one hand pressed lightly over his wound, he saw that at least thirty people were standing ahead, watching the arrival of his friends. Abby reached him quickly, picking up her pace.

"Hey, you shouldn’t be standing!" Echo said, as he approached his friends with Abby in pursuit. But he didn’t pay much attention to what she was saying because his eyes were searching for three specific people. He hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath until he exhaled violently at seeing Clarke walking alongside Gabriel and Octavia toward them.

He didn’t know what he was thinking, but somehow, he feared she would be unconscious, carried by Gabriel. Seeing her walking was a relief. His body was relaxed, his heart pounding normally — perhaps a little altered by the happiness he felt — and he was almost certain he wouldn’t notice if someone kicked him in the ribs right now.

"Where's Madi?" he asked no one in particular, looking around for the girl.

"Madi had... to be locked in her bedroom," Raven replied. "Sheidheda is still in control. After Clarke didn’t recognize her, she just… freaked out."

He looked at her bitterly, uncertain about what hurt him most: the fact that Madi was being controlled by a commander through the flame he had put in her head or that he saw the guilt and regret plastered all over Raven's face now, as if she had had to go through the experience of almost losing Clarke — again — to understand how much she had hurt her. They hadn’t talked to each other yet after all that had happened, and Bellamy didn’t want to hear their apologies, because they should be directed at Clarke and not him.

Looking at his friends now that he knew how much their accusations and actions had affected Clarke, to the point that she considered taking her own life, made him want to scream. He wanted to shake them all by their shoulders and transfer the memories he had seen in Clarke’s mind to theirs, so they would understand the pain and anguish they had inflicted on her. But he had no right to tell anyone what he had seen in her mind.

"Prepare the medical room for her," he heard Jade say behind him. In seconds, three people turned to comply with her order. Bellamy and Abby moved together, walking up to the front of the group that had formed in the courtyard. The three figures were still far apart, they would take at least another ten minutes to approach. If it wasn’t for his injury, he would’ve walked that distance to hurry the process.

Bellamy felt someone next to him and retreated slightly when seeing it was Jade analyzing Abby.

"I'm sorry for—" she pointed at her throat, referring to the moment she held a sword against Abby's neck.

"You have some nerve," Bellamy barked in Abby’s place, who was staring at Jade with animosity.

Jade lifted her chin.

"I didn’t know. None of us knew."

"It doesn’t change the fact that you tried to kill my people."

" _Your_ people killed mine, too."

"Madi killed two people who condoned the death of the person she loves the most. And the death of many others."

Jade looked at Abby again for a moment, then returned to Bellamy. She looked resentful, betrayed.

"We were raised thinking that they were gods. If we knew what was happening behind that door... we would’ve stopped it much earlier."

"We just want peace," Abby said. And Bellamy thought he couldn’t have said anything better than that. All he wanted was peace, and at that moment, his personal peace was walking toward him, freed from Josephine and hopefully with her memories restored.

"You have a place in Sanctum, if you want," Jade said.

He continued to stare at Clarke from a distance, though he was aware of Jade's gaze alternating between him and Abby. _He wanted it._ Sanctum wasn’t exactly the place he had in mind when he decided he needed a home after being continually expelled from other places by radiation and wars. But it was the only place available. And, frankly, if he had Clarke and his friends — that broken and somewhat misfit family he had formed — he would settle for anywhere.

Clarke was climbing the path toward them now, her head low as if she needed to watch her own feet to make sure she wouldn’t fall. Gabriel and Octavia followed behind, looking much more rested than her. At the moment Clarke looked up and saw Bellamy, she froze in place, as if her feet were no longer able to take another single step.

_She remembers me._

Bellamy felt his feet guide him on its own, crossing the distance between them with longing and urgency, not caring about pain or fatigue, because nothing else existed now besides Clarke. _Nothing ever existed besides Clarke._

His mind was an incoherent mess of disconnected thoughts, his heart was beating savagely in his chest as if it could tear his skin apart to find the nearest exit and the intensity of everything he felt at that moment made him stop only two paces away from her. Frozen. Paralyzed. Bewitched. He noticed that her hair seemed longer and silky; the cut she had on her cheek only eighteen hours ago was just a memory, and in its place was a gray stain that looked like dirt.

And, God, the exhilaration he felt the moment she smiled and her eyes took on a vivid glow couldn’t match anything he had ever felt at any other time in his life. With her face dirty and wet with tears that fell unwittingly, he had never seen anything more beautiful than her. It was like when he saw the picture of a sunset for the first time in a history book as a child; when the hundred were sent to Earth and he personally saw his first sunset, he knew that the book didn’t do justice to the real thing. And now he was looking at Clarke, remembering the day he asked his mom for help with homework when he was younger — _'I need ten synonyms for the word beautiful'_ — and thinking that none of the ten synonyms they had found that day did justice to her.

He was aware that at least fifteen seconds had passed and they continued to stare at each other, overflowing with a mix of emotions and feelings that no language could describe. But at that moment, looking into Clarke's eyes was far more important than embracing her, no matter how much he wanted to touch her. Because he was opened up, vulnerable, completely surrendered to her. He was exposing his soul without saying a single word. He was hers.

It was Clarke who moved first, initially to wipe away two tears, and then to cross the distance between them with a hug that destroyed all their fears, doubts and regrets. He didn’t mind the pain as she pressed her body against his, tightening her arms around his neck as if her life depended on it. Bellamy clung to her, inhaling her scent, feeling her skin, nuzzling her neck and thinking that they probably looked like a tangle of limbs. He closed his eyes tightly and let his frantic heartbeats — which she could feel against her own chest now — let her fill the gaps of his silence. Neither of them said anything, and somehow the silence was much more enlightening than any words they could say. There was so much inside him that it wouldn’t fit into words. But when one of her hands clutched the hair at the nape of his neck, a set of specific words danced dangerously close to his lips.

_My God, I love you._

Bellamy bit his tongue to keep the words from coming out. _Not now, not like this._ But he loved her so much that it hurt. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually.

_My God, I love you._

He almost laughed in her ear — was it happiness? Was it nervousness? Was it knowing that it was as obvious as knowing that oxygen is necessary to live, and it took him years to find out? Maybe it was all of it.

_My God, I love you._

Bellamy exhaled cautiously, fearing that his lungs wouldn’t take it if he wasn’t so gentle. Clarke's arms slowly loosened around him and he already felt the frustration of needing to let go of her so soon. Her hands slid over his shoulders until they rested on his arms. He met her gaze and she smiled. The sun cast a golden light on her face.

_My God, I love you so much._

He smiled, too. And if he hadn’t remembered that at least twenty people were watching them now, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stifle those words yet again.

"Bellamy..." she whispered, and her eyes slowly slid from his face to his chest, widening slightly. Her voice was louder this time, in a scolding tone: "Bellamy, you shouldn’t be standing! Did I hurt you?"

"No."

_If anything, she had healed him._

"Clarke!"

She lifted her head to look at her mother above his shoulder, and more tears escaped her eyes. He knew that Abby longed to hold her daughter and tell her everything she had confided to him only a few minutes ago, but the urge to drive Clarke away from that place and take her to a safe place, away from everything and everyone, was extremely strong.

Abby approached and pulled her into a hug so tight and full of emotion that he felt the need to look away to give them privacy. Octavia approached him with an omniscient smile that he ignored with a hug.

"Thank you."

"I told you to trust me," she said.

"I trust you," he confirmed, placing a soft kiss on top of her head. Octavia released him and slapped his arm playfully.

"I didn’t doubt for a second that she’d get out of there. It's Clarke."

He nodded, his eyes returning to her face as if by magnetism.

"It's Clarke," he repeated.

"Where's Madi?" Clarke asked, looking frantically around and finding only the faces of old friends and strangers.

"Madi is safe," Abby replied, holding Clarke's face between her hands. "You can see her later."

" _No_. I want to see her _now_."

"Clarke, you’ve just—"

"I want to see her _now_ , mom. _Please_."

"It'll be good for Madi," Bellamy agreed. Although he knew that Clarke needed to rest, he also knew that she had spent days away from Madi and that the first thing she wanted to do was make sure that she was well — as much as possible, considering that Madi was being held because of Sheidheda. The same applied to Madi; the mother figure who kept her alive during Praimfaya was essential to her, he couldn’t imagine how much she had missed her.

"Come on, I'll go with you," he offered.

Clarke shook her head.

"No, you need to rest."

"I've done a lot of that in the last few hours," he lied, since all he had done was worry about her and close his eyes for two miserable hours.

"Hey, I can take her there and you go back to the medical room," Raven suggested, approaching Bellamy with apprehension. He frowned at her, dismissing the suggestion immediately.

"I'm not going back, I'm fine."

No one else objected to that idea, not even Clarke. Of all people, she should know that he wouldn’t follow orders that didn’t coincide with whatever he wanted to do. And, frankly, he didn’t know if he would be able to leave Clarke alone again; the last time it happened, she went away hand in hand with Cillian and had her body snatched. If he had given in to the desire to drive her away from him that night — which he now admitted to being jealousy — maybe they wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble. If he had simply accepted the fact that he couldn’t see her with someone else instead of letting her have fun with Cillian in a stupid attempt to prove to himself that he wasn’t jealous, maybe Clarke wouldn’t have suffered so much.

They walked side by side, being silently followed by Abby.

"Are you okay?" he asked, finally.

"I am now."

"You have to stop getting in trouble, you know?"

Clarke let out a short chuckle and he caught himself admiring her profile as they walked toward Madi's room. When he remembered Abby's presence — or _noticed_ it through his peripheral vision —he forced himself to face the road ahead in silence.

When the guard outside Madi’s room opened the door for them to pass, Bellamy felt his heart breaking. Madi was sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, her head tucked between her knees. A chain held her wrist to the head of the bed. Clarke gasped at the sight of her situation, and Madi looked up, startled, rising quickly to take a step forward, making the chain tinkle on the floor.

"Clarke!" There was so much anguish in that whisper that Bellamy couldn’t help but feel like the worst human being in the world. Madi was only in that situation because of him. It seemed that everything that happened in Clarke's life was his fault.

"Oh, Madi," Clarke rushed to her, hugging her with such eagerness that the girl staggered back, her knees banging against the edge of the bed. Madi's hands tightened around Clarke's back, her knuckles white with the force of the embrace. "I’m sorry, Madi. I'm _so_ sorry."

Madi's sobs were loud; they were the sobs of a frightened child, taken from her family and forced to deal with demons that didn’t belong to her.

"Let me look at you," Clarke said, releasing Madi just to crouch down and hold her by the arms. He watched her wipe Madi's tears with her hands, gently, making the girl close her eyes for a moment and cover Clarke’s hands with hers. With a lump in his throat, Bellamy approached them, crouching down beside Clarke. When Madi opened her eyes again, they mingled with sadness.

"I was _so_ scared," she said. "I thought you were... dead, Clarke." More sobs filled the small room, and this time, Bellamy reached out to stroke the girl's arm affectionately. She looked at him. "I asked to see you, Bellamy. But they wouldn’t let me. They didn’t let me see Jordan either, I hurt him."

"I'm sorry, Madi. I'm sorry for leaving you alone. It's not gonna happen again. We'll find a way to fix this, okay?"

Madi clenched her lower lip, about to cry. She wrapped her arms around his neck and Bellamy held her gently, feeling the warmth rising to his chest. He had always liked children; Octavia used to laugh at him whenever on the Ark whenever he told her a story about a child following him around the ship. It happened more than once. Despite his tough appearance, something always drew children to him. And he loved it.

Maybe it was their innocence, or their power to soften bad feelings with a simple hug like the one he was receiving now. But he felt Madi’s pain and knowing that he had caused it was distressing.

"Look," he continued, pulling away just enough to look at Clarke, who was watching him with teary eyes, "Clarke's fine. And we'll be just fine too."

Madi swallowed, seeming too stunned to understand what he was saying. Or maybe she didn’t have the same conviction — he couldn’t blame her; after all that had happened, believing they would be alright was almost a utopia.

"I'll get you out of here and we'll get the flame out, too. Everything's gonna be all right," Clarke promised.

But as Madi processed those words, her features contorted into a hostile countenance. Even her voice took on a more serious and haughty tone:

"Don’t even _think_ about touching the flame."

"Madi... we don’t need it anym—"

" _No one's going to take the flame out!_ " she repeated, bringing her face closer to Clarke's. "They have to die, _all of them_."

"What? Madi..."

" _Traitors_. Murphy's gonna be the first. I'll cut his throat before he gets a chance to betray us again."

Clarke's eyes were slightly wide now, she was horrified; her incredulity was as tangible as any of them. Bellamy touched Madi's arm again, but she flinched and stared at him angrily.

"You know it's the right thing to do. If we let Murphy live, he'll only betray us again. And who knows, maybe next time Clarke will _actually_ die. Is this what you want? Do you want to be responsible for Clarke's death again?"

It was scary. The tears on her face were still drying, memories of the childish, innocent cry that he had witnessed a few seconds ago; but her expression was a cold and haunting mask. He knew those were Sheidheda's words, even if Madi had reasons to hate Murphy at that moment — he wasn’t even sure _he_ had forgiven Murphy. Because for a moment, he represented the possibility of Clarke's death. And part of him — a dark part he would rather hide from everyone — wondered if Murphy would betray them again.

He swallowed hard; Madi's last words echoing painfully in his mind. _Do you want to be responsible for Clarke’s death again?_ He knew it was Sheidheda speaking through her, but that didn’t change the fact that it hurt to hear her say it. Because it was true. He _had_ been responsible for it the first time, closing the ship's door before Praimfaya.

"No, Madi," he denied. "It's not what I want. But nothing will happen to Clarke, I promise."

"Yeah, well, you already said that once and look what happened."

 _I won’t let anything happen to Clarke_ , he had told Madi before he blackmailed Diyoza to save her life. The words struck him like a bullet through his chest.

" _Madi_ ," Clarke called out harshly. "This is not true. Bellamy wasn’t responsible, he did what I asked him to do. You know that, I've told you this story a thousand times." Clarke let her knees drop to the floor, holding Madi by the arms again and forcing her to stare at her. "Hey, osir go through disha teina." _We go through this together._ "You taught me that in Shallow Valley, remember? I don’t want you to take revenge. I'm fine and I'm not gonna leave you, do you hear me? I want you to be _better_ than me."

Madi's face softened for a brief second, probably remembering the years she had lived with Clarke on Earth. Bellamy allowed himself to imagine that same scenario in his mind, but the moment was over when Madi turned her neck partially, looking at something on her side. _Sheidheda._

"I _am_ being better," she retaliated. "You don’t have the courage to kill someone you call a friend when you know he won’t hesitate before betraying you again. And I won’t let that happen. Not again."

"Madi, please, just lis—"

" _Never again!_ " she shouted, making Clarke jump in fright. Instinctively, Bellamy stood up and pulled Clarke's arm, pulling her away from Madi and standing in front of her protectively.

"Madi, I need you to calm down," he said, using the same tone he used when Octavia was a child and began to cry. He was terrified that someone would hear her from the other side of the door and had learned that talking to her in a low voice soothed her.

But it didn’t work. Madi lunged forward, causing the chain to stretch and stop her with a jolt. She groaned, an almost guttural sound that made Bellamy cringe. She seemed to be possessed by something that blinded her with fury. Bellamy opened his arms, taking a step back and forcing Clarke to do the same. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed she was staring at Madi in terror.

" _I'm going to kill them all! It won’t end until I kill them all!_ "

"Clarke," Abby called, and Bellamy jumped, having completely forgotten about her presence there. "Clarke, you should go."

" _No_ ," she said firmly, though her frightened eyes were inconsistent with that determination. "I won’t leave her alone again."

" _All of them!_ " Madi continued. “ _They’ll pay, all of them._ ”

"Clarke, she won’t stop. She won’t calm down so soon and you need to rest."

"I can’t leave her alone, I can’t!"

Bellamy dropped his arms, turning to Clarke and hating to see the pain in her eyes.

"You're exhausted, Clarke. Abby's right. I... I can stay with her," he said, though he hesitated for a second. On the one hand, he wanted to be with Madi so that she didn’t have to be alone anymore and let her understand he wouldn’t give up on her; on the other, he just wanted to get Clarke to her room and let her rest, guarding her sleep.

" _I'll_ stay with her," Abby said, her eyes soft over their faces. Bellamy imagined that this was her way of compensating for the guilt and pain she felt for not having found out that Josephine had taken Clarke's body. She didn’t want to disappoint her again. He knew the feeling. "And you need to rest too, Bellamy. I know you haven’t slept in the last eighteen hours."

"I’m fine."

"No, you're not." She turned to Clarke again and laid a hand on her cheek, affectionately. "Let me take care of her, okay? Go take care of _yourself_. I'm not going to let anything happen to her."

"Mom…"

"Go with Bellamy," she insisted, using her other hand to touch his shoulder. "I'll calm her down and tomorrow we'll decide what to do about it. I need to know you're okay, Clarke. Please, go rest."

Bellamy saw the hesitancy in Clarke's posture and stare; the tiredness was evident in her countenance, as well as her drowsiness. He noticed that her hands were shaking and he knew it wasn’t just a reaction to what she had just witnessed regarding Madi. It was weakness.

"Go," Abby repeated. "Your room is next door, if anything happens, I'll let you know."

Clarke cast one last glance at Madi, who was still struggling against the chains and shouting threats to the people she believed were responsible for what had happened to Clarke. He understood her: less than thirty-two hours ago, his hands were wrapped around Russell’s throat for the same reason. Not avenging Clarke's death had been the most difficult choice in his whole life, and should that situation happen again — he felt panic at the mere thought of that happening — he would choose the opposite way. He would burn that place to ashes.

Bellamy noticed Abby's suggestive gaze and placed a hand on Clarke's back, leading her out of the room in silence. Clarke strode down the hall to the door of her own room and opened it absentmindedly, oblivious to everything that was going on around her.

She left the door open and he hesitated for exactly six and a half seconds before he decided to follow her and close the door behind him. Bellamy leaned against the wall, watching as Clarke walked to the center of the extremely familiar room. It was the room he had seen in Clarke's mind; everything was the same except for the canvas near the bed, which now showed a colorful painting of Josephine's real face instead of Clarke’s drawing of his own. She stood in front of the canvas, her arms parallel to the sides of her body as if she didn’t have the strength to move. He felt like an intruder, which was almost comical when he had literally visited her mind, seen her fears and demons. He had his hand on the doorknob when she said:

"She really did love him, you know?"

Bellamy's hand slipped from the doorknob and he straightened up, walking slowly to the center of the room and stopping behind her. He looked at Josephine's painting curiously.

"You told her that she didn’t know what love was, but she did. I saw it in her memories." Clarke turned her face to a long mirror next to them and pointed at it. "Right there. She had just resurrected Gabriel. They danced and she said she’d love him for eternity. Can you imagine a love like that?"

"Yes," he said, because the words simply rolled out of his tongue as quickly as the embarrassment struck him as she turned to him in surprise. It was unwitting: because he couldn’t think straight when she was around; because the moment she said _love_ the only thing that came to his mind was her face; because he didn’t need to imagine that kind of love, he _felt_ it.

Clarke was studying him so intently that he wondered if she could read the thoughts that were taking hold of him now. He averted his eyes, out of cowardice, and the room seemed suddenly too small. The realization that there was only him and Clarke in that place, with no one else to stop him from saying something unconsciously that might scare her away, was overwhelming.

"Well... I guess I just wanted to hurt her," he replied, only because he was a coward and because part of that answer was true. He _did_ want to hurt Josephine because she had hurt Clarke. As simple as that.

"Gabriel must be heartbroken."

Bellamy looked at her instinctively, pondering why he was still surprised whenever Clarke expressed concern for other people when she had more reasons to worry about herself. He hated her altruism because it put her constantly in danger, but he loved it at the same time because it summed her up. She was kind and generous. And God, he loved her.

_Not now._

He held his breath.

_But, when?_

"I need to talk to him," she continued. "And to Octavia. And to Ryker and all—"

"Clarke," he whispered, making her fall silent and look up at him. "You can talk to them tomorrow, okay? You need to worry about yourself now. How long has it been since you last slept?"

She blinked.

"Um... I'm not sure."

"This is an indication that it’s been _too many hours_ , so go to sleep."

"I need a shower first," she said.

He smiled involuntarily, watching his own hand reach out to slide his thumb over the dirt on her cheek, as if he was just a puppet controlled by a ventriloquist. Clarke didn’t move away from his touch, but he noticed the way her eyes searched his in surprise caused by the unexpected gesture. Unable to let her go just yet, even though his instincts screamed at him to do just that, he gently wiped the rest of the dirt before finally lowering his hand.

"Just a little dirt," he explained.

She raised her eyebrows subtly in an expression of sudden realization and for a moment he swore he had seen her blush. _Great_ , he thought, he had succeeded: she was uncomfortable because he had crossed the lines. It was one thing to touch her when she had taken control of her body before they met Gabriel — their emotions were elevated and their need to touch each other to make sure they were real was unmanageable — but it was another completely different thing to touch her like that, as if it was natural, when there was no need to do so.

"Oh..."

"I'll... let you shower and sleep. If you need me, I'll be—"

"Can you stay a little longer?" she interrupted him, which made him frown. "I can’t sleep, I'm too agitated. And I really need to talk to someone or I'll go mad."

He relaxed a little, letting his shoulders fall.

"I know the feeling."

She smiled faintly and he sighed with relief as the tension broke between them.

"You... can lie down if you want to. I won’t take too long."

"Okay."

She nodded and turned to go to the bathroom. He let out his breath and realized that his fists were clenched. _Why was everything so different now?_ He used to talk to Clarke without having to worry about his own movements or words. He didn’t have to monitor his own breaths, wondering if she could feel his nervousness. Now everything he did seemed to be too obvious, too objective, too revealing.

Bellamy went to the window and sat on the edge carefully, resting one hand on his chest, only to check if his stitches were still closed. He wouldn’t be surprised if his shirt was soaked in blood after he ignored Abby's advice on resting. But he couldn’t rest and the reason was a door away from him. He sighed, resting his head against the window frame and fluttering his weary eyes shut. He jumped as Clarke's hand found his shoulder and woke him from the involuntary nap that had knocked him over. He blinked to focus her face.

"Sorry, I just closed my eyes for a moment and fell asleep."

Clarke smiled affectionately.

"Bellamy, you're tired. Go to sleep, I shouldn’t have asked you to stay."

"No," he replied immediately, practically interrupting her. "You want to talk."

"I can talk tomorrow. Isn’t that what you said?"

"To the others, not to me."

"And that’s different because...?"

He sighed and stood up, passing her and walking to the center of the room again. Approaching the canvas, he turned it to face the wall; Josephine's face staring at him made him uneasy. It was strange to be in that room after being in Clarke's mind.

"Because I'm here," he said. "Let's talk."

She studied him long before nodding and sitting on the edge of the bed. He noticed that she was wearing different clothes, which probably belonged to Josephine. Clarke usually wore neutral colors and seeing her dressed differently was a bit odd — no less beautiful, though. The blue shirt made her eyes stand out and matched her translucent skin. She realized what he was doing and looked down at her body.

"It's weird to wear her clothes, I know. I just didn’t have anything else to wear."

He shook his head and gathered the courage to sit beside her, keeping a safe distance. There he was again, calculating his movements. He had never been the head, that was _her_ role. But if he acted with his heart, he would be pulling her closer to him right now and letting out everything that had been inside his chest for so long without his knowing. And that wasn’t the time for that. He wasn’t sure that time would ever come.

"Well, she borrowed your body, you can borrow her clothes."

Clarke laughed; a choking, funny sound that made him mimic her. Octavia used to hate his jokes, saying they weren’t funny — and she was right. But Clarke thought they were. She always did. But soon the sound of her laughter faded and silence took over. They could hear people talking and children playing outside; it was still day and they were probably the only people inside, ready to sleep.

_Ready to sleep. In the bedroom. Alone. With Clarke. Tell her._

He grunted under his breath, shaking his head subtly. If he kept going like that, he would never be able to interact with her normally again.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Bellamy turned his face to her, running a hand over his beard distractedly. He needed to trim it soon. He didn’t know if the choice of growing a beard had been unconscious: he thought it had been a way for him to distance himself from the person who had left Clarke alone on Earth to die. Pathetic and inefficient. His appearance was no longer the same, but the demons and the self-loathing were. After that, he forgot to shave it. Maybe that said a lot about him: he was still looking for the detachment of that same person that lived a hundred and thirty-five years ago.

"Yes." It was true. She was there, alive. He was more than okay now. "Clarke," he began, turning his body toward her, "I'm sorry. About Madi."

Clarke swallowed hard.

"Bellamy, you couldn’t have known..."

"She wanted to avenge your death, I _should’ve_ known. But above all, Clarke... it was me who put the flame in—"

"Hey," she interrupted gently. "No. We won’t do that. I remember everything we talked about in that cave now. And I know this subject is not going to be mentioned again, because I've already forgiven you."

A crooked smile, almost imperceptible, appeared on his lips and Bellamy wondered if he deserved it. _No_ , he concluded. _I don’t deserve any of this. I don’t deserve Clarke._

But he already knew that.

"And nothing about what she said is true. You weren’t responsible for anything, I never _blamed_ you for anything. That never even crossed my mind."

Their eyes met and he was so mesmerized for a second that he didn’t think long before saying:

"You said you were proud of me."

At first, Clarke frowned, slightly confused. Then, realization hit her and she blinked a few times as if to absorb what he had said at once.

"I heard the messages," he said in a whisper, as if he was afraid someone else would listen. That conversation was too important to be heard by anyone other than Clarke. It was like a secret that he shared only with her, the only good part of the six years he spent in mourning. "All of them."

Clarke gasped, her lips parted in amazement.

"How?" she whispered back, though he read the word on her lips.

"That structure in Gabriel's shed. It captures radio transmissions."

She gasped again and he intertwined his own hands on his lap, playing with his fingers to keep them from reaching for her.

"It took me over a century, but I heard them," he continued, letting out a low chuckle. "I wish I’d heard it earlier. You said it’d be easier if you knew that I was alive, that you’d see me again. And… God, Clarke… everything would’ve been _so much_ easier for me if I’d known I’d see you again, too."

She averted her eyes, running the back of her hand over her cheekbone to wipe away a tear.

"And the only thing that makes me feel a little better is knowing that you had Madi to get through everything with. For _six_ years."

Clarke looked at him again, her eyes wet and slightly red, but tender and kind as ever.

"I had our friends, but..." he sighed, looking up at the ceiling, thinking that by avoiding her eyes he could tell what was stuck in his throat. "I felt so alone. And... all the time... _all the fucking time_... I imagined you were there and I felt a little less alone."

It was difficult for him. Bellamy wasn’t good at expressing his feelings openly with words, they always seemed to choke him and he ended up feeling like a child learning their first words. He had negotiated with commanders, had given numerous speeches to Skaikru, but when he was with Clarke, he was reduced to nothing. She destroyed him with one look and lifted him up with another.

The silence was so obvious and overwhelming that he heard his own heart pounding against his chest. Her eyes continued to stare at him, but he didn’t dare look back at her.

"It was _you_ ," she said, suddenly, and he lost that battle immediately, meeting her gaze. "I had Madi, but it was you who gave me the strength to keep going."

He felt his stomach sink as she looked at him with those eyes that made him fall to his knees, opening the way to his soul. His lips parted without him noticing. He remembered specifically having asked her how she had managed to live through those six years. _I had Madi_ , she replied.

"But you told me—"

"I realized that you hadn’t heard the messages when you asked how I’d done it. Survived. I didn’t want to tell you at that moment."

"Why not?"

"I don’t know. It seemed too..." She tilted her head, thinking of the word that would define those 2199 messages, but eventually relaxed her shoulders and shook her head. "I don’t know." She smiled sheepishly, and looked down. "I'm sorry. At some point I lost hope, I thought you were dead."

"If you’d lost hope, you wouldn’t have kept talking to me until the day we came back."

She smiled, drumming her fingers on her thighs.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Madi talked to me too, you know?"

She looked up at him, bewildered.

"She did?"

"Yes. When you were asleep."

Clarke looked nervous when she asked:

"What did she say?"

"Most of the time she’d tell me about your day. She told me about the first time you caught a fish with a spear," he added, grinning longingly. Clarke mimicked him, her body relaxing again. "She told me you told her not to give up and she didn't. She _knew_ I'd listen. And she also told me about the stories you told her. I wish I’d lived them all with you."

"Well... you can make new ones now. When Madi gets better." Her voice faltered at the end, and her face contorted into restrained apprehension.

"She _will_ get better."

"I want to believe that."

"Then believe."

She rolled her eyes, but the shadow of a smile danced around the curves of her lips.

"I talked to Diyoza yesterday," he commented.

"Well, that's new."

"Tell me about it," he agreed, resting a hand on the mattress involuntarily and leaning slightly toward her, breaking the invisible barrier he had built between them. "But she was the one who said that Ryker would help us. And she promised me that you’d come back from the anomaly with the memories. All of this happened."

"Did she see Madi?"

"Yes. She saw her playing with Hope, like a normal child."

He felt warmth spreading across his chest as she smiled hopefully, leaning forward unconsciously, as if to urge him to tell her more. And what should he say? That Diyoza mentioned the fact that he was hopelessly in love with her and that she had seen them together and happy in her vision? He didn’t even know what _together_ and _happy_ meant. They were together and happy now, — more or less, considering Madi's situation that still needed to be resolved — but his mind continued to twist that sentence to please his own desires.

"She saw all of us here in Sanctum. Living in peace. Finally, in peace."

"We’ll live here?"

"If you want to." He would follow her wherever she went. "Jade offered us a place in Sanctum. But I needed to know what _you_ wanted."

"Whatever is best for our people."

"No, Clarke," he retorted softly. "Think about yourself for a second. What do _you_ want?"

She blinked, tilting her head slightly to the side, like this was the first time someone really asked her for her opinion, asked her what _she_ wanted to do.

"I want to start over. It doesn’t matter where, as long as you… guys are with me. I don’t want to be alone anymore."

"You won’t."

Clarke nodded and looked down at the mattress, covering her face with her hands to hide a yawn. He took it as a sign to leave the room, but didn’t dare to get up and leave her when he had just said that she wouldn’t be alone anymore. He knew that the context of that phrase implied a completely different sense, but still, he didn’t want to leave her. Not when he had just gotten her back. And he had so much to ask; he wanted to know what happened in the anomaly, what she was feeling and if she needed any help with anything. _His_ help. But she was tired and he wouldn’t deny her a much-deserved break.

"Clarke, you can ask me to leave," he teased, making her lift her tired eyes to him with an amused smile.

"Sorry, I guess I’m more tired than I thought."

"You deserve a good night's sleep."

"You too."

He agreed with a nod, finally forcing himself to stand up carefully. His injury hurt whenever he moved after standing still for a long period of time. Clarke also got up and he started to make his way to the door, thinking of going along with his plan to spend the night in the hallway, guarding her door.

"Bellamy?"

It was just a whisper, but he turned to her promptly. Clarke was already opening her mouth to continue, but when their eyes met, she fell silent. He felt the reluctance in the way her muscles tensed and stepped forward, indicating that he was willing to listen to her.

"Uh… it’s nothing. You should… rest now."

"Talk to me, Clarke," he asked gently.

She swallowed and glanced at the window for a few seconds before nodding to herself and looking at him again.

"Do you think y— could you stay a bit more?"

"You don’t want to... sleep?"

"Yes."

Bellamy took another step forward, trying to understand what she was really asking of him at that moment, and Clarke sighed softly.

"Just... can you stay here until I fall sleep? Or… you can sleep here too, I don’t mind. I just…"

"Oh..." It was all he could say and it wasn’t even a word. His mind was completely blank.

Her voice dropped to a whisper again:

"It's just... I don’t trust myself anymore. I... I know it's insane, but I'm afraid of sleeping... it's like Josephine is gonna take over again, I... I'm afraid I’m gonna sleep and not wake up anymore."

Bellamy froze, temporarily dislocated to see the vulnerability in Clarke's gaze. At no point had he imagined that Clarke would be afraid of Josephine, much less now that she was gone. But then he thought of the trauma that situation had caused her and couldn’t help the feeling of hatred that overwhelmed him. Hatred to the Primes, to Josephine, to everyone who had hurt Clarke to the point where she had become afraid of herself.

Clarke stepped back and shook her head.

"No, it's okay... I'm sorry, I wasn’t thinking... I'm gonna be fine. It's stupid."

Bellamy frowned. He had been staring at her face for so long that she had taken his silence as a sign of hesitation on his part.

"What?"

"Well, Echo… she might not take this well, even though it’s not… you should go back to yo—"

"We broke up."

Clarke looked up at him instantly. He watched her intently, pathetically searching for a signal that could tell him how she felt about it. She looked surprised, which was reasonable considering the fact that Echo had broken up with him only a day ago.

"Oh... I... I'm sorry. I didn’t know."

"No one knew."

"Are you okay?"

He almost laughed. First, because that phrase seemed to be Clarke's favorite and second, because she actually seemed to expect him to be heartbroken with the breakup. Certainly, he felt a little strange and slightly saddened to end a relationship that had been good for him in the past, but he couldn’t stay with someone he didn’t love and they ended things amicably. Now he was grateful that Echo had taken the first step the day before; he would have waited until everything was back to normal, and if he had gone along with his plan, he would be feeling terrible for even considering staying in the same room as Clarke now. Because it was what he wanted most at the moment. But he just nodded, covering it up with a smile.

"It was mutual. Don’t worry."

She acquiesced slowly, turning her face to the side and looking a bit embarrassed. He decided to reverse their usual roles and solve the dilemma for her.

"It's not stupid. And I'll sit by your side until you fall sleep," he said, even though he knew he wouldn’t leave that room until the next morning.

Clarke looked at him.

"Are you sure?"

The only thing he wasn’t sure of was whether it was normal for him to feel so agitated at the mere thought of watching her sleep, and perhaps falling asleep next to her when his exhaustion overcame him.

"Yes."

She nodded once more and pulled the covers to lie comfortably beneath them. Bellamy took off his shoes and sat down beside her, using a pillow to support his back. He watched her settle over her own pillow, lying on her side and placing a hand under her cheek. She didn’t close her eyes. Bellamy crossed his ankles and folded his hands on top of his legs, watching her patiently. He knew she had something to say.

"Why were you surprised when I said I was proud of you?"

"Nobody’s ever said that to me."

"Well... I stand by what I said," she whispered, pulling the blanket up to her neck and finally closing her eyes with a soft sigh. He smiled at himself, giving in to the old desire to feel the strands of her hair between his fingers. Consciously. Voluntarily. Because he was convinced that he needed to do it now or he would never forgive himself for missing the opportunity.

Clarke didn’t open her eyes, but he felt her tighten. Little by little, however, as he stroked her hair gently, loving the feeling of her soft strands between his fingers, she relaxed and fell into a deep sleep. At some point between that therapeutic movement and watching her chest rising and falling steadily, he decided to lie down next to her and close his eyes. There was a new limit being crossed; they had never shared a bed and that should be strange and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. It felt right, like this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

He fell asleep with the soothing sound of her breathing, but awoke after what seemed to be only minutes with a loud knock on the door.

"Clarke," Murphy called from the other side. "Wake up! It's Madi."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! ❤️
> 
> How is everyone after 6x10? We still breathing?  
> I'm really sorry it too me this long to update, but the last episode really got to me and I couldn't write. I just knew I couldn't write anything that would compare to that last scene. It was so beautiful and so powerful that I don't even know how many times I've watched it.  
> Anyway, I managed to finish this chapter and I hope you guys like it. Also, feel free to freak out over Bellarke in the comments, I'm still not over any of that!


	14. Chapter 14

Bellamy opened his eyes suddenly, just as he used to do when he had a nightmare and woke up with a racing heart. But this was not a nightmare and he was sure of it because Murphy was still knocking on the door. He turned his head and looked at Clarke; she was still asleep in the same position, safe for her hand that had, somehow, found its way to his chest.

"Clarke," he called, slightly alarmed as he covered her hand with his own. Her skin was warm.

Murphy's knocking intensified and Clarke finally woke up, frowning at the loud noise and fluttering her eyes open. She blinked twice when she noticed Bellamy's presence, a little bashful.

"Hey, Clarke, I know you haven’t slept in like five hundred hours, but your kid is losing her damn mind, so..."

Clarke pulled her hand from his chest and sat up on the bed, startled. Repeating a series of frantic ' _nos_ ', she pushed the blankets away and stood up. Bellamy did the same, though his injury delayed the process.

"Wait, Clarke, calm down."

She ignored him, completely immersed in her fear and hurrying to open the door to Murphy.

"What happened? Is she okay?"

"She took the knife from the guard who brought her food and threatened him with it, so... no, I don’t think she's okay."

Clarke pushed the door open and passed Murphy abruptly, running down the hall toward Madi's room. Bellamy walked to the door and Murphy finally noticed him, looking at him with a mixture of skepticism and light amusement; his eyebrows were raised.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Shut up, Murphy," he growled, both because he didn’t have the slightest desire to explain that he would never do whatever Murphy’s twisted mind was thinking he had done at the time and because he needed to help Madi.

Murphy followed him quietly down the hall, but Bellamy felt his eyes on his back. Raven, Emori and Ryker were waiting for them outside Madi’s door and even though he knew there was no reason for it and there was no way they had seen him leaving Clarke's room, Bellamy felt slightly embarrassed. He entered Madi’s room in silence, where only Clarke, Gaia and Abby stood now.

Clarke was only a few feet away from Madi, who held a knife in front of her, pointing it at Gaia, who was farther back. Her eyes were filled with rage at the flamekeeper.

"Madi, drop the knife," Clarke asked calmly, stretching her hands out in her kid’s direction, though Bellamy could hear the shakiness in her voice. "Gaia won’t hurt you, okay?"

"Where's the guard?" Bellamy asked Abby.

"Ryker asked him to leave. Madi was simply deranged."

 _She didn’t look any better_ , he thought. Bellamy wanted to help in some way, but his attempts to calm her down earlier hadn’t worked. Clarke didn’t seem to be succeeding at it either.

"That's _exactly_ what she wants to do, isn’t it, flamekeeper? I don’t trust you. Do you know what flamekeepers do? They _betray_ their commanders."

"It's Sheidheda," Gaia said, desolate, although Bellamy didn’t need her confirmation to know that the kid staring furiously at them wasn’t Madi.

"Madi, listen to me. It's me, Clarke." She took another step forward and Bellamy did the same, instinctively. Clarke had been too close to a blade the day before, and that was an image he didn’t want to see again. Clarke looked up at him and shook her head subtly, indicating that he shouldn’t worry. _As if it was possible_. Turning back to Madi, she continued: "Hey, I know you're there. Listen to my voice. Do you remember Blimmy?"

Madi was now looking at her, her hand still around the handle of the knife, though less firmly. Her chest rose and fell quickly as if she had run a marathon.

"See? You remember." Clarke smiled, the corners of her lips trembling. "What about the happy pit? You fell in and started to cry. And when I went for you, you were laughing because you’d found berries in the bottom and… you didn’t know whether to be sad or happy?" She let out a sad chuckle and Madi stepped back, swallowing hard. "And remember when we used to lay on top of the rover watching the stars and wondering if one of them could be my friends? You named a star after one of them every night. We need to do it again… lie down on the grass and look up at the sky. We can do that here. But my friends are here now. With me. With _you_."

Bellamy glanced sideways at Clarke, wondering how many nights she had looked up at the sky waiting for his return. She had no idea how many nights he had spent staring at the Earth, wishing she would come back to him.

"Yes, that’s right," Clarke whispered, taking another step forward.

"Clarke..." Bellamy warned, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"It's okay," she said, stepping closer to Madi, who lowered her knife slowly, fighting the tears that were already visible in her eyes. She shook her head.

"Stay away, Clarke, _please_. I don’t want to hurt you."

"You won’t."

" _I_ won’t," she shouted in a choked voice that broke his heart.

 _But Sheidheda will_. Bellamy reached for Clarke’s wrist and, this time, she didn’t ignore him. He could see her shoulders tightening when let go of her and turned to Madi.

"Madi, you'll be fine," he said, soothingly. The little girl's eyes reached his and they looked tired. He wondered if she had slept in the last couple of days. "We're here, you're not alone. You're not afraid."

That’s what he told Octavia when he had to hide her for the first time under the floor on the Ark. _I'm not afraid_ , she replied. And after a couple of weeks, it became almost true to her.

"I'm not afraid," Madi whispered.

"You're strong."

"I'm strong." Her whisper was so much like Octavia's so many years ago that he cringed. " _I'm strong._ "

"Yes. Yes, you are."

Bellamy tried to approach her cautiously, but Madi pulled away suddenly and shook her head.

" _No._ Stay back."

He raised his hands to his chest as a surrender.

"It's okay. I'll stay here."

Clarke sighed shakily, running her hands over her face. She stared at him with dismay, allowing him to read the thought that was crossing her mind at that moment. _Help me._ He gulped, hating the feeling of helplessness that overwhelmed him, and nodded. _Think of something_ , he demanded of himself, finding only one unbreakable barrier in his mind. The only way to help Madi was finding out the flame’s passphrase, which she had changed so that Clarke wouldn’t get it out.

"Clarke!" The two of them turned to Raven's voice; she was watching them carefully from the door. "I think I know how to help."

Those words left Clarke on alert and Bellamy felt hope renewing within his chest. Raven gestured for the two of them to leave the room and Abby agreed to stay there with Madi once again. They joined the others in the hallway, and Ryker suggested they go to the upstairs office to talk quietly — so that Sheidheda couldn’t hear them. Bellamy followed his friends in quick strides, realizing that the wound on his leg no longer bothered him as much as before. He saw Echo coming their way when he lifted his eyes and she slowed her pace to accompany him.

"Where were you? Abby asked me to get you, but you weren’t in your room."

He didn’t know why that question had destabilized him, but his stomach suddenly tightened and he gulped. He no longer owed Echo any explanations and she knew about his feelings for Clarke, but there was something inconsiderate about making her think he had spent the night in someone else’s room one day after their breakup. _Nothing even happened,_ he reminded himself. But that didn’t change the fact that he had spent half his morning stroking her hair, drinking in every inch of her face, admiring every trace and wondering what it would be like to fall asleep next to her.

"I… couldn’t sleep. I went for a walk."

He felt Murphy's curious gaze over his face as they entered Russell's old office, but none of them said anything. Ryker closed the door and the group formed a circle in the center of the room expectantly. Raven started:

"Alright, so this is what we know: Sheidheda is basically in control, which means the other commanders were isolated. Madi can’t access them, she can only see _him_. Sheidheda did this somehow, manipulating the A.I."

"What does that mean?" Clarke asked.

"It means that if the code of the commanders' minds can be isolated, they can also be _deleted_."

"Wait, but how are we going to do this?" Emori asked. "We need resources. And, well…"

"I destroyed everything we had," Raven continued ruefully. "I know. But Ryker might be able to help us."

"I have a room behind my workshop," Ryker revealed. "I don’t know if the equipment is enough, but—"

"It's enough for me," Raven confirmed.

"Wait," Murphy began, "why don’t we just do the same thing you guys did to Raven when Alie possessed her? We have the EMP."

"The flame is not the same thing as the chip," Emori said.

"No," Raven agreed. "Madi is part of the flame now, just like the other commanders. If we try to do what you did to me, it can cause serious damage to her brain. The only way to do this is by deleting Sheidheda's code. _Or_ getting the passphrase."

Clarke sighed, shaking her head.

"Madi will never reveal it."

Raven looked at her emphatically and nodded.

"Deleting the code it is, then. I need Becca's books."

"They're in the workshop," Gaia said.

"Okay, come with me so you can find it while I check the room."

"I'll go with you too, maybe I can help," Emori offered, following the three out of the office and leaving behind four unlikely companions before Bellamy could say anything to stop her.

The silence settled instantly between them as the door closed and Bellamy wondered if that was just another one of fate’s ways of laughing at them with derision. Echo’s eyes wandered among Bellamy, Murphy and Clarke, probably waiting for someone to say something; but Clarke was staring blankly at the office table and Murphy was analyzing Bellamy with what he believed to be a subtle glance. The last thing he needed was to be in a room with his ex-girlfriend, the woman he found out he was in love with only a day before and the guy who presumed he was cheating on who he thought was still his girlfriend.

"Oh... _wow_ , you can cut the tension with a knife here," Murphy finally said, chuckling shortly after. "Sorry, it's a bad time to joke about knives."

"Shut up, Murphy," Echo scolded.

That seemed to wake Clarke from the trance she seemed to be in, and she turned to the three of them, focusing on Murphy closely.

"How's your leg?" she asked.

Murphy raised his eyebrows, but it wasn’t a challenging or amusing gesture; he was genuinely surprised by the question. Maybe he had been expecting an accusation — which would be more than reasonable — or an ironic remark, but definitely not a question that considered his well-being. Bellamy looked at Clarke in awe; she never failed to amaze him.

"Uh... fine, I guess. Thank God your mom’s a doctor."

Clarke smiled weakly.

"I'm sorry, Murphy."

"For... what?" he asked, stunned.

"Well... your leg."

Murphy opened his mouth, but the words were probably not able to reach the speed of his thoughts. Bellamy had never seen him so baffled and if the situation wasn’t so relevant, he would have laughed.

"Clarke... it's not your fault."

"I know... but still. My hands made this to you," she said, biting the inside of her bottom lip, uneasy. "I, um... I saw some things in the anomaly."

Bellamy looked up at her, though she was looking directly at Murphy, who was now moving uncomfortably in his place, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.

"Everything _Josephine_ did when she was in control."

"Oh... _shit_ ," Murphy muttered. But Bellamy couldn’t see his countenance, because his eyes were glued to Clarke’s; his mind was racing at miles per hour, his heart pounding savagely against his chest. _Did she remember everything?_ Even what Josephine had told him in the woods?

 _You're in love with her_ , she said. And he didn’t deny it. Instead, he said that he cared about her more than anything in this life. And now he couldn’t even breathe because the thought of Clarke figuring out what he felt through someone else’s memories was scary. He wanted to tell her; he wanted her to know how much she was loved, but not like this. He wasn’t even sure if he would ever be able to do it, because he couldn’t risk to lose her friendship. He had lost her too many times just to drive her away with his own words.

But Clarke's eyes were still on Murphy and he thanked God for that because if she decided to face him, he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep those thoughts to himself.

"You thought I was dead," she stated, her tone soft and calm.

" _Wait, no_ ," Bellamy intruded, slightly annoyed. They all turned to look at him, including Echo, who had been watching everything with curiosity. "Don’t make excuses for him, Clarke. For _none_ of them. You shouldn’t apologize to anyone, much less Murphy."

Murphy withdrew his hands from his pockets and took a step forward, approaching Clarke.

"You can yell at me if you want. He's right."

"I know he's right," Clarke agreed. "But you were scared and I know what fear can do to a person. Changing sides, making bad alliances. I lived it," she said, her voice slightly choked as she glanced sideways at Bellamy. "And you live in fear, Murphy. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore."

Murphy kept looking at her, as if carefully absorbing her words. Suddenly, he shook his head.

"You didn’t see what I saw."

"Hell?"

"Yeah."

"I think we saw a great part of it on Earth," she replied. "You saved me, Murphy. And that's enough for me to know there's good in you. Thank you for that."

Murphy swallowed, stealing a quick glance from Bellamy. He was probably remembering the memory Bellamy had shared with him the day before. There was something about his semblance that surprised Bellamy: it was regret.

"You're… welcome. I guess."

Clarke only nodded and he sighed quietly.

"Look... I wasn’t going to do it."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Yes," she said, simply.

Murphy opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by Raven, who opened the door of the office without warning, startling them all. Gaia came in shortly after.

"Good news: I can help Madi," Raven said.

"Does that mean you have bad news?" Echo asked.

"We need to find a way to get her to Ryker's room and... well, she's a danger to anyone now."

"I can go up there and get the knife," Bellamy offered.

" _No_ ," Clarke refused immediately, looking at him stubbornly. "She might hurt you. You saw the way she looked at us when we tried to get too close."

"She's right," Gaia agreed. "Madi is not only a _natblida_ with training, but she’s also being controlled by Sheidheda. Which means she's much stronger than any of us."

"I _was_ wondering how she managed to dribble a guard," Murphy commented.

"So, what’s the plan here?" Echo asked. "Do we wait for her to sleep and take her with us hoping she doesn’t wake up?"

The room suddenly became silent, bringing along a thick layer of tension and anxiety. Bellamy searched for Clarke's eyes, which looked up at him at instantly. Her fear was so tangible that he felt a shiver run down his spine.

"There _is_ a way," Gaia said, hesitantly. "Sheidheda is not totally in control. Madi still has her consciousness, though she can already see and feel him all the time. If we manage to let Sheidheda take over completely, Madi will be unconscious."

"We _won’t_ leave her unconscious," Clarke retorted firmly.

"Nothing's going to happen to her," Gaia promised. "Her body will be under a bit of stress, but it's the only way we can get her to the room in time to delete the code."

"Is she going to be okay?" Bellamy asked.

Gaia nodded.

"Yes. I _promise._ It'll be just like falling asleep. Even if the procedure doesn’t work—"

"It _will_ ," Raven reaffirmed.

"She'll wake up."

"Then let's go," Echo hastened, starting to head for the door.

" _No_ ," Bellamy said, reaching for her to stop and looking at Clarke. He wouldn’t go through with that plan if she didn’t agree with it. "Clarke?"

There was a crease between her eyebrows and he could see conflict in her eyes, but she soon reached the realization that there would be no other way to help Madi. She nodded and turned her eyes to Gaia.

"How do we do it?"

"Sheidheda needs to be called. We need to do something that makes him take control. Something that will make him angry enough to lose control as well."

"Well, that would be me," Murphy said. Bellamy could almost hear every neck in that room turning to him. "It’s true. The little girl hates me, the only ones with a chance to annoy this Sheidheda are me and the flamekeeper. And, let's face it, making someone angry is _my_ specialty."

Raven murmured something in agreement and Bellamy crossed his arms in front of his chest, uncertain of what to think about his friend's voluntariness. Clarke took a step toward him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. _Come on_ , that's the _only_ thing I'm better at than you guys. Let me have this."

Bellamy knew he was using humor as a cover-up for his true feelings, but said nothing. Clarke rested a hand on Murphy's shoulder.

"Thank you, Murphy."

He only nodded, averting his eyes to the floor.

"I'll come with you," she added.

" _No, Clarke_ ," Bellamy hastened to say, capturing her gaze with uneasiness. "We don’t know how she's going to react. You said it _yourself_ —"

"I'll be fine. I'll walk in with Murphy and you stay outside."

“ _That’s not Madi there!_ ” he snapped, aware of the fact that his friends were now looking at him as if he was completely insane. Even if he tried to explain it, they wouldn’t understand; but he had watched her walk into danger countless times and it never got easier. The memories of a sword pressed to her throat were still fresh in his mind and he couldn’t bear the idea of having her around a blade ever again. “Let _me_ go in with Murphy.”

Clarke’s eyes studied his face with tenderness; he knew that look. She understood his fear, but it wouldn’t change her mind. He groaned under his breath before she spoke again: 

"Bellamy, I just... I just need to be with her."

He let his shoulders fall in conformation and looked away, unable to hold her gaze. Murphy cleared his throat and walked to the door.

"Okay, let's get to work."

Clarke followed him out of the room and the others did the same, marching quietly downstairs. Bellamy needed all his self-control not to rush his steps and persuade Clarke into letting him and Murphy do what had to be done. He never believed in foreboding — his mother said it was real, but he believed that if it really were, he would have been prevented by it when he allowed Octavia to leave their room on the Ark and let their mother be killed. But right now, he was sure that what squeezed his heart and brought shivers to his skin was foreboding.

"I'll stay at the door," he decided, when they reached their destination. Clarke looked at him with uncertainty, but didn’t say anything when he nodded once, indicating that she could trust him not to do anything that could get in the way of their plan.

"What was that thing they used to say in the old theater?" Murphy asked, rubbing his index finger over his thumb. "Oh, yeah, break a leg!"

"Funny," Raven retaliated wryly, rolling her eyes.

Clarke opened the door and everyone fell silent; Abby left the room and Bellamy leaned back against the door frame while she asked Echo about their plans. From where Bellamy was standing, Madi couldn’t see him directly. He watched as the girl rose from the bed where she had been sitting, and narrowed her eyes at Murphy as he approached her.

"What are you doing here, _traitor?_ " she asked, her voice deep and hard. She lifted the knife to her chest, pointing it at him. "Did you come to make my job easier?"

"Oh, I bet you'd love to stick that knife into my chest, wouldn’t you?" Murphy replied sordidly.

"Yes, it’d be nice. It’d be best to send you to hell a little earlier, though."

Murphy advanced a few more steps and Clarke did the same; Bellamy felt his body leaning forward instinctively, but Echo caught his arm before he could enter the room. He turned to her, annoyed.

"Hey, you want to help Madi? Stay here."

Bellamy sighed and stepped back, peering anxiously through the door. His heart seemed about to stop at any moment. He noticed that Murphy was leaning closer to Madi, as if teasing her.

"...that I am. You’ve said it many times."

" _A traitor!_ " Madi shouted, letting out a loud grunt. Murphy didn’t even move. Clarke was only a few feet behind him, and Bellamy bit his bottom lip hard enough to keep himself from alerting her.

"Really? Why don’t you tell me what I did? Just to refresh my memory."

Madi grunted again, lunging forward just to be held back by the chains that tied her to the bed. Clarke ran her hands over her face, clearly distressed to see her kid in that situation. If it was painful for him, Bellamy could only imagine what it was like for her. In the brief time he had spent with Madi, he felt responsible for her, almost like a father figure; the last thing he wanted was to cause her any pain.

"You almost _killed_ Clarke! You _betrayed_ her. She’s been saving your life over and over again and you don’t even _care_. _You're going to die!_ " She screamed again, flipping forward only to be pulled back by the chain.

"Tell me, Madi. What do you want to do to me?" Murphy asked defiantly, stepping closer to her. Madi glared at him, steadying her right hand around the knife.

" _Get away!_ "

"Tell me first, Madi. For all I've done to Clarke, what do _you_ want to do to me?"

" _Stop!_ " she screeched, clenching her teeth. Bellamy felt his jaw clenching from the pain of watching Madi and Clarke suffer like that. It was like inflicting pain on the people he loved the most, even indirectly. He was being conniving. But that was the only way to save her.

 _What a déjà vu,_ he thought to himself. After all, what had been his plan to put the flame on Madi against Clarke's will if not inflicting pain on the person he loved the most indirectly?

Madi was still screaming and Murphy kept moving forward as if he didn’t fear for his own life. Bellamy's eyes were clinging to Clarke; he didn’t even blink, fearing that the gesture might somehow prevent him from warning her if something happened. He couldn’t help but feel scared, especially when the foreboding continued to nudge him with mockery, reminding him that Clarke's life might be in danger again.

"Why don’t you tell me, _Sheidheda?_ " Murphy raised his voice, opening his arms and taking the last step that would allow Madi to reach him.

Bellamy had only felt fear — the real one, the kind that makes the body tingle and become numb and causes the heart to stop for a few seconds — twice in his life. The first was when he saw his own mother being floated on the Ark, as she shouted for Bellamy to take care of her sister and himself; the second, when he thought Octavia was dead.

Now he felt his own soul leaving his body as Madi, filled with anger, moved forward with the knife in hand to stab Murphy and Clarke put herself in between them, pushing Murphy to the ground. Bellamy's lips weren’t able to keep up with his thoughts — or maybe it was the lack of oxygen, he suddenly couldn’t breathe — and he didn’t have time to scream as the knife struck Clarke's chest.

Suddenly the world seemed to spin too fast; Bellamy blinked away the haze that covered his eyes and staggered to Clarke clutching at his own heart as if he had been hit there too. Because in a way, he had. He saw Clarke leaning forward, her hands covering her chest, and the look of shock on her face; he saw Murphy reach under Clarke's head before she hit the floor; he saw his friends running toward them and he was slightly aware that they were shouting something directed at him, but there was a buzzing in his ears and he couldn’t understand a thing. He imagined that was what being dead felt like.

Bellamy knelt down beside Clarke, groggy, leading his hands toward the wound that soaked her blue shirt with blood; his hands turned black immediately. Clarke opened her mouth to breathe more easily, but let out a low moan instead and Bellamy heard a choked sob, realizing that it had come from his own lips.

" _No, no, no_ ," he whispered, feeling his entire body starting to shake. "Clarke... _please_."

Clarke reached out for him, and he squeezed her hand tightly while using his other hand to try to stop her bleeding. But the amount of blood was so great that it was useless. He was vaguely aware that Madi had fallen unconscious on the bed and that Gaia and Echo were taking her away, but his eyes were staring at Clarke in desperation. _Don't leave me_ , they asked her. Her eyes were frightened, wide and teary, and he could read them saying right back: _don't leave me_. 

“Bellamy…” she said in a faint whisper that seemed to suck her energy.

“Shh,” he hissed, blinking to hold back his tears. “Don’t talk. You’re gonna be—"

But before he could finish that sentence, Clarke closed her eyes.

_No. No. Please, no._

Terror consumed him completely, blinding him momentarily. He groaned loudly, commanding his body to work. They needed to move, he needed to save her, he needed to get to—

"Abby," he whispered, forcing his arms to slide down under Clarke's back and knees and pick her up immediately. His knees trembled and if Murphy hadn’t placed a hand on his back, he would have fallen to the ground. " _Abby!_ " He shouted louder, looking at Murphy in sheer desolation. " _ABBY!_ "

Murphy looked as scared as he did, but he didn’t hesitate before rushing out of the room. Raven said something, but Bellamy was so disturbed that he didn’t even listen. He followed the same path as Murphy, running desperately to reach the medical room. Clarke's blood dripped down his arms and hands and created a black trail across the hallway. He swallowed the lump in his throat and thought about the mantra he had taught Octavia and Madi.

_I'm not afraid._

But it didn’t work, because he was _terrified_. Because Clarke was bleeding in his arms; because she had just come back to him; because she couldn’t die, not now, not _ever;_ because he loved her and needed her and he couldn’t bear the idea of living in a world where she didn’t exist. A life without her was not worth living. He knew it by experience.

" _Please, Clarke_ ," he begged in a shaky whisper, forcing his legs to run the remaining steps to the medical room. "I can’t do this again. _I can’t_."

He didn’t even notice when he reached the medical room and Raven opened the door for him to pass; he didn’t notice Abby or Jackson and didn’t even see their reactions to Clarke's inert body as he laid it gently on the stretcher. No, Bellamy couldn’t think of anything other than Clarke and how, just a few hours ago, she was asleep by his side. Breathing. Healthy. She even had a small smile on her lips when he laid down on the bed; he thought she must have been dreaming about something nice. Maybe it was their future, the one he told her about hours before. Maybe she was dreaming of peace. And he remembered thinking that his peace was right there, only inches away from him.

Bellamy stepped behind the stretcher, holding her face between his trembling, blood-soaked hands. He rested his lips on her forehead, just like he had done before falling asleep that same morning. He had never been a devotee, never knew if he really believed in a god; but at that moment, for Clarke, he believed in anything. Saying a mental prayer, he placed a kiss on her head.

"Please, don’t leave me," he pleaded one last time before Jackson handed Abby a scalpel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! ❤️
> 
> I'm SO sorry it's taking me longer to update! I've been working like crazy and I haven't had the time to write much. I don't have another chapter ready, so I'll probably take a little while to post the next one as well (I'm sorry, I know you probably hate me now, especially because of how this chapter ended. I'm not mean, I swear!)  
> But tell me what you thought in the comments and I'll try to work as fast as I can!  
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments, you guys make my day extra special!


	15. Chapter 15

Since returning from space, Bellamy tried not to think about the six years he had spent there. Every second felt like a year; every minute felt like a decade; six years felt like an eternity. At times, he wished that time would pass faster and that he could simply sleep until the world was destroyed once again — with his luck, that was what bound to happen. When he was forced to live without Clarke, nothing else seemed to have purpose. His laughs were hollow, his conversations with friends were just polite words being said without much thought, and he hated it because he had been fighting persistently for his life during all that time and suddenly everything seemed in vain. He didn't realize that Clarke filled the largest space in his chest until he felt empty.

 _Why am I still here?,_ he wondered constantly; and that question kept him up late, haunting him with Clarke's face on his mind. For Bellamy, all he had done since coming to Earth was fighting for his people and their own survival — his and Clarke’s. _Together_ , they said; but suddenly he was alone and if he hadn’t been able to fight for her survival, why should he fight for his own?

Those thoughts dissipated, however, as if they had never even crossed his mind, the moment he saw her again after six years. This was a new chance presenting itself voluntarily: the chance he didn't have to save her during Praimfaya. And suddenly, he wanted to fight for his own life again. A single glance from Clarke was enough for him to rediscover his purpose. _Why am I still here?_ Now he knew why. It was because he needed to make his way back to her.

But now Bellamy was mentally punishing himself as he held Clarke's pale face between his blood-soaked hands, because he had one more chance to save her, and he lost it. If he had insisted more, if he had walked with her and told her he had a bad feeling, if he had told her that the thought of her being in danger scared him more than having a gun pointed at his own head…

His forehead was rested against hers; beads of sweat drenched his cheeks and mingled with the silent, salty tears that rolled slowly down his skin. He was vaguely aware that Abby and Jackson were working frantically to keep Clarke alive and that Raven had left the room to help Madi with fear and reluctance, but he had no idea how long it had been since he had brought her there. The monitor that controlled Clarke's heart rate and made a constant and steady noise was the only thing keeping him sane right now.

Bellamy gulped, bringing his lips close to Clarke's ear.

“Clarke,” he whispered, his throat thick with tears, “you’re doing well. I'm sorry I didn't… I should’ve insisted. I hate your stubbornness, I hate it _so much_ ,” he said, imagining she would have laughed if she was conscious. “I hate your selflessness, _I hate it_.” He closed his eyes tightly, sliding his fingers through her hair fondly, thinking he didn't believe in any of that. He loved every part of Clarke; he loved her every flaw, her darkness and her scars, every bit of it.

“Just hold on. You survived the fucking end of the world. You can survive this.” Lowering his voice to an almost inaudible whisper, he continued: “You can't leave me again. I just got you back, I haven't even told you...” _I love you._ He wondered if it was selfish of him to be thinking about it now; what would happen if Clarke died without him saying he was in love with her? What would happen if Clarke _died?_ _Period._

 _Nothing._ Nothing would ever happen, his life would become a limbo where he would live, inert, until death decided to pity him. He would remain stagnant, trapped in a life that didn’t belong to him; his life belonged to _her_ , he knew that now.

"Her blood pressure is dropping," he heard Jackson say, somewhat altered, to Abby.

" _I can see it, Jackson!_ " she replied, taking on a tone as desperate as his. Bellamy looked up in bewilderment as Jackson covered Abby's hand over a medical tool he didn’t know. " _I can do this!_ "

"You're _shaking_ , Abby."

The mention of that fact seemed to cause a spasm in Abby's hand and she let out an agonized sob as Jackson took control of the operation.

"Abby, I need you to calm down," Jackson said, not taking his eyes off the deep rectilinear cut on Clarke's chest. He didn't seem to be in a position to try to calm anyone down, but of all the people in that room, he was the only one with a chance to stay sane. "Clarke needs you now. I know it's hard, but you need to calm down and instruct me. Can you do that?"

Bellamy turned his eyes to Clarke again, missing Abby's reaction to Jackson's question and noticing the color fading on Clarke's cheeks. He had never seen her so pale in his life.

"Is this... is this normal?" he stammered to no one in particular. "Her face..."

As if answering his question with derision, the noise in the monitor grew less frequent, with longer pauses. Her heart was slowing down — ironically, his was beating so fast that he wasn't even sure it was pumping or simply trembling incessantly like his body.

" _No_ ," he said authoritatively, his fingers meeting Clarke's face again. Her skin was cold and he felt his own body freeze with fear. “Clarke, you have to fight. You're doing well, just… fight. _Please._ "

But the more he begged, the more Clarke's heartbeat slowed down, making his stomach twist. Bellamy gritted his teeth, touching his forehead to hers again and blocking out the dying sound of the monitor. Certainly, it couldn’t be it. He had not survived the hell of losing her and finding her again just to lose her one more time — this time, forever.

_Forever._

The reality of that word struck him, and he raised his head as if he had been electrocuted, feeling more tears welling up in his eyes. He stroked Clarke's cheekbones, as if that could somehow help her regain color and make her heart fight back. She had told him only a few hours ago that she had already considered giving up; he had seen her put a knife to her throat in her mind, and the mere memory of that moment frightened him. He had not been by her side during those attempts, and although there was nothing he could do to change the past, it still hurt him. She was alone during all that time. But now he was by her side, and yet the situation remained the same: he could do absolutely _nothing_. It was like trying to hold water between one’s hands.

The monitor kept humming in his ear, tearing at his chest little by little and poking at his heart with an invisible knife; and just as he looked up to see if Abby was helping Jackson, the monitor’s noise reduced to a steady, loud constant beep. He looked at the screen and saw a straight, motionless red line.

Her heart stopped.

So did his.

If he had to define the worst sound in the world, that would be it; if he had to define the worst pain he had ever felt, that would be it. It took him exactly four seconds to recover from the shock and numbness that had taken over his body before clenching his jaws and looking at Jackson and Abby, who stared at the monitor in disbelief. He told Clarke that there was still room for hope as long as they were breathing; for her, he would have hope even when the oxygen was no longer in her lungs.

" _KEEP GOING!_ " he howled, startling himself with the power of his voice, which he thought he had lost the moment he lost his own mind. " _JACKSON, KEEP GOING!_ "

Jackson recovered quickly, shaking his head and dropping the tools he held in his hands to pump Clarke's heart. Bellamy heard a guttural sound escape his own throat and saw, through the thick layer of water that blurred his vision, two of his tears falling on Clarke's forehead; they rolled in opposite directions, leaving a trace of the pain and despair that he felt on her skin.

" _No, you don't get to leave me_ ," he demanded, shaking his head frantically. He brought his lips back to her ear, his voice loud and firm: " _You don’t get to die, Clarke. You can't die, do you hear me?_ " He heard the explicit hopelessness in his voice, making it sound squeaky. “We still have to make new stories, you promised me. You _promised me that, Clarke._ ”

He let the sobs break free, causing his body to spasm; the damn monitor seemed to laugh in his ears, a beep he knew would be engraved in his brain until his last breath. Gritting his teeth, he pressed his own temple against Clarke's, whispering words he couldn't hear himself from the frantic beating of his heart.

“ _C’mon, c’mon, Clarke! Please._ Please, come back to me. I can’t do this again. Six years _killed_ me, Clarke, I can't do this again.”

Around him, he heard Abby's shouts aimed at Jackson whom Bellamy had never seen so nervous in his life. He clung to the prayers again, waiting for a miracle; his mother used to say they existed and were fulfilled as long as one’s desire was pure. Six years ago, he wished for Clarke to come back to him and she did; now, his purest desire was for her heart to beat again, even if his own had to stop in order to do so.

“Madi needs you. _I_ need you. My God, I need you _so much_ ,” he cried out; his hands sliding to her shoulders and gripping the fabric of her shirt, now torn exactly where her chest was equally torn. It was funny, because she was there at the table with her chest open, and it was his heart that was in tatters.

_I need you._

_I can’t live without you._

_I love you._

_I adore you._

So many things left unsaid, so many choked words; he remembered the advice she had given him just hours ago and wished to turn back the time. They had lived more than a hundred years, yet all he wanted was more time with her. Maybe an eternity.

" _CLARKE, COME BACK!_ " he howled again, closing his fists around the fabric of her shirt until he could feel his fingers hurting. " _COME BACK!_ "

And so, just like the miracle his mother used to talk about, she did.

It was a subtle beep, almost nonexistent at first; for a moment he thought that he was losing his mind and was just looking for signs, like when she talked to him through morse code. He doubted his own sanity when he wrote the word ' _alive_ ' in his notebook — Miller tried to convince him that it was grief making him twist reality. But when he lifted his head and saw Abby and Jackson staring at the monitor with the same shocked expression he had on his face, seeing the red thin line moving every two seconds, he realized that he was right.

She was alive.

_Alive._

Bellamy let the air out of his lungs with violence, turning his face to Clarke immediately and feeling relief send shivers all over his body. He felt his own skin cold, as if he had wandered around without warm clothes on the coldest winter night. Bellamy choked on his own words, making a loud noise that he couldn't define whether it was a laugh or a cry. Maybe it was both.

His trembling hands gripped Clarke: they slid across her arms, shoulders, face and stopped at her neck, where he laid two fingers just for the pleasure of feeling her responsive pulse. Her heart was beating steadily, poking his fingertips with a firm, persistent beat.

If he had to define the best sound in the world, that would be it; if he had to define the best feeling in the world, that would be it.

He pressed his lips to her temple, whispering a series of ' _thank yous_ ' against her skin, unsure whether they were directed at her or at the God who he believed in now.

"You'll be fine," he said, a statement that served as convincing for the both of them that she would survive. He turned his face so that his cheek rested on her forehead and let out a weak laugh under his breath. “We still have Diyoza's vision to make true, whatever the hell that means. And we'll get Madi back, she'll be fine. _You did it_. Raven is saving her.”

The medical room door swung open and Bellamy jumped, looking up to see his sister running toward him, followed by Gabriel. Her countenance was startled and her eyes widened slightly when she saw the blood bathing Clarke's body and Bellamy's hands.

"Bell, I…" She reached out to her brother and laid one hand on his face as she used the other to gently squeeze Clarke's shoulder. "Is she okay?"

He just nodded, unable to find his own voice. Gabriel moved closer, staying behind Octavia as his eyes scanned Clarke's motionless body. _Motionless, but alive_ , he had to remind himself. A few minutes ago, she was motionless and dead.

_Dead._

He swallowed and sobbed once. Octavia looked at him with compassion and tiptoed over to wrap her arms around his neck. He needed five seconds to correspond.

"Oh, Bell… I didn't know." She stroke his back softly, as he did so many times to her several years ago. They had reversed the roles, now he was just a little boy afraid of the dark. “It was Murphy who told me about Madi and Clarke. I came as fast as I could.”

He broke free of her grip and nodded again; Octavia raised her hands to wipe Bellamy's face with unusual delicacy.

"I thought she—"

"She _did_ ," he confirmed, his eyes finding their way back to Clarke automatically. "Her heart _stopped_ , O. And I almost..." He shook his head, looking back melancholically at his sister and letting her fill in the blank with her own words.

"I know. But if that doesn't prove to you that she's a fighter, then what will?" He managed to smile weakly at her and she grabbed his shoulders. "I should’ve been here with you."

"Why don't you sit for a second?"

Bellamy glanced at Gabriel, who was now talking to Abby. She was scared, still traumatized by what she had just witnessed, looking at her daughter's face as if seeing a ghost. Her body was visibly shaking.

"Come on," Gabriel insisted, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “There's a chair over there. I'll get you some water.”

Abby allowed herself to be carried to the chair next to Jordan's stretcher, but the boy was no longer there. Bellamy was so disturbed when he entered that room earlier that he didn’t even notice his absence.

"Where’s Jordan?"

"He left medical earlier," Jackson explained; his voice was low and slightly trembling, though he had managed to steady his hands, which now worked on Clarke’s stitches with agility. “He’s much better and asked to go to his room.”

He nodded, glad to know that Jordan was out of danger; he wished to see Madi's face when she heard about that. When she was finally free of Sheidheda, Clarke could tell her that everything was fine. And he believed everything _would_ be fine, because Clarke was alive. It all made sense again.

"How’s Madi?" he asked.

“Murphy said that Raven was working on the flame thing. She was making progress. But, Bell…” She took his hands carefully and squeezed them between her own. “You need to clean up. Go take a shower and eat som—”

" _No_ ," he refuted. "I'm not going _anywhere_."

“I know you want to stay with her, but I’ll keep an eye while you’re away. She’s fine. She’s _alive_.”

“That’s not enough until she opens her eyes and tells me she’s fine herself.”

"Bellamy, when was the last time you ate?"

"I don't need to eat."

"Well, biology says otherwise."

"I don't give a damn about what biology says, I _won't_ leave her side."

"Bellamy, look at me."

" _No, Octavia_ ," he repeated louder and somewhat annoyed. She sighed in defeat and let go of his hands. "You weren't here… you didn't see… you don't know what I felt."

"I can imagine."

"No. It was different,” he said. “I wasn't with her when it happened before. The last two times, I thought she was dead and it was… _horrible._ It was _fucking painful._ And I thought I couldn’t feel anything worse in my life, but this, O… I _heard_ her heart stop beating. I _saw_ the color draining from her face. Her skin was so cold, she looked…” He wet his lips, running the back of his hand over them right after. The rest came in a whisper: "I lost her right in front of my eyes and I was _so scared_."

Octavia knitted her brows in understanding, turning her face to Clarke and placing a hand on her shoulder again.

"I didn't hear his heart stop beating," she murmured with a vacant stare, even though her eyes were glued to Clarke. “Or the color draining from his face. But I heard that gunshot and I saw him falling on the ground. I _felt it_ , Bellamy; my heart breaking, my soul dying with him. _I know._ "

_Lincoln._

Suddenly, Bellamy's heart seemed to shrink until to a minuscule size. He fixed his eyes on her face, but she didn't turn to him. Instead, her hand found Clarke's forehead, as if checking her body temperature. Jackson was almost finished with the suture.

"O…"

"I'm not blaming you," she denied, shaking her head and letting a tear trickle down her left cheek. “I'm just saying that I know what you felt. Impotence. Pain. Complete terror. I couldn’t stop shaking.” Bellamy clenched his fists instinctively, demanding that his body stopped shivering. Removing her hand from Clarke's face, she looked up at him. “Sometimes, when I go to sleep… I keep thinking that I didn't know the last time I said I loved him would _actually_ be the last time. I can never say that again.”

Bellamy frowned, his face contorted into a helpless expression. If he could go back in time and stop Pike from killing Lincoln, he would. In a heartbeat.

“And I love you, big brother. I don’t say this enough and we haven’t said this aloud in nearly a hundred and thirty years, but I don't want anything to happen to any of us without you knowing it.”

He gasped slightly, looking at her tenderly.

"I love you too, O."

She smiled.

"I know that. Now…” She sighed and nodded her chin at Clarke, lowering her voice. “You had a _third_ chance today. Life isn’t usually that generous, you’re lucky. _I_ wasn’t."

He felt suddenly extremely aware that they weren’t alone in that room. Jackson was focused on what he was doing, but Bellamy could see him checking them with his peripheral vision; Abby was sipping the water Gabriel had quietly offered her a few feet away from them; Gabriel was crouching beside her chair, making sure she was all right.

"Is it still complicated for you?" she asked. Bellamy shook his head, though he knew it was a lie. Yes, it was still complicated — so complicated that not even _he_ understood it. But how could he even begin to try to understand it when he had just gone through the worst moment of his life? "Bellamy, you _poisoned_ me to save her."

He looked up at her.

"We already talked about this."

“I believe you _thought_ you were protecting me too. But why did you only act when I arrested Clarke?”

He opened his mouth, but when he sucked in his breath, he realized he had no answer. He genuinely believed that he had poisoned Octavia to save her and their people; but if he himself had refuted Clarke's idea of acting against his sister when she suggested it, why didn't he hesitate to poison her the moment Clarke's life was in danger?

“Bell… I _know_ you love me. I’m your blood, your family,” Octavia continued, and in a way, that speech reminded him of what he had heard from her during his hallucination in the woods. “But _Clarke_ … the bond you have with her is stronger than blood, Bell. You didn’t choose me, you didn’t choose to love me or to protect me, you do it because that’s what siblings do. But you _chose_ her. She bleeds…” she looked down and took his hands into hers again, “… _you_ bleed.”

He shifted his eyes to his hands, soaked in black dried blood, contrasting with Octavia's white hands. It was still astonishing how well she could read him even after so many years of them being apart. He loved her immensely; poisoning her had been painful, especially since he refused to believe that his sister had become a merciless bloodthirsty queen. But it wasn’t hard to do it when he thought of Clarke taking the blame for what they had done to Cooper, willing to die to save their people and Madi. 

"Hey," Octavia called him to draw his attention back to her. “We all have become someone we hated at some point in this life. When I was in the bunker, I wondered what you’d say if you saw me as Blodreina. I wondered how mom or Lincoln would look at me. With disgust. Because that was how _I_ saw myself. I almost _killed_ you, Bellamy. And you poisoned me because I almost killed the person you care about the most in this life. It's insane, but not too hard to understand. Not for me."

 _Insane,_ he repeated, mentally laughing. That was an understatement. Maybe it was exclusive to the Blakes, or something that had become normal after so many years of war and fighting for survival, but a conversation about how they both threatened each other's lives was now bringing them together.

Suddenly, Octavia laughed softly. Bellamy frowned at the gesture.

"What?"

"I just can't believe how dumb you are."

“I thought we had stopped with the primary school insults as teenagers.”

Octavia laughed a little louder, making Jackson turn to them curiously. When he noticed Bellamy's look, he excused himself with the mention that he would check on Jordan and left the room in less than ten seconds.

“Diyoza believed that you and Clarke were together, she’s been thinking that since she met you. No one bothered to tell her the truth. She found out when she saw Echo in Gabriel's home. _Who, by the way_ ,” she added, “thought the same. You were desperate to save her, you didn’t blink an eye when he told you you’d have to get inside her mind. He told me that you asked him not to bring you back if things went wrong.”

He had his back to Abby and Gabriel, but could almost feel their glances in his direction. Octavia spoke in whispers, but the room was so quiet, except for the steady beeps on Clarke's monitor, that he was sure they could hear everything clearly. Suddenly he felt his ears burning.

“You've taken care of me all your life, Bell. This is _my_ way of taking care of you: making sure that you stop thinking about our people or saving the humanity for a second. I’m making sure that you think about yourself and _ask_ yourself what you want. What do you want, Bell?”

His eyes drifted to Clarke in response, without him having any control over it.

"Well, there you go," she said, dropping her hands to her sides and smiling slightly as she skirted the stretcher to stand beside Clarke. “Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"

"She forgave _Murphy_ ," he replied, and something about his tone made Octavia smile. She looked up at him.

"We didn't talk much yesterday," she mentioned. “At some point, when we were walking, she didn’t know who Gabriel was. She got scared. I tried to calm her down.”

"Did it work?"

"For a while. After a few minutes, she tried to run away from us. I ran after her and she thought I wanted to kill her. She only remembered Blodreina.”

"Oh…"

“I swear, Bell… the only way I was able to calm her down was by saying that you were waiting for her here. She trusted me the moment I said your name. She got up and started walking again without saying another word.”

"She didn't forget about me?"

"No." She turned her face to Clarke again and adjusted the sheet Jackson had placed over her body to keep it warm. “Before she went into the anomaly, she asked me to forgive you in case she didn't make it back. And she also asked me to tell you that she was still proud of you.”

Bellamy blinked, momentarily stunned by Octavia's words. He could still remember Clarke's soft voice telling him that she stood by what she said about being proud of him the day before. He swallowed and walked to the opposite side of the stretcher, facing Octavia and reaching for Clarke's hand. It was warm, just like his chest.

"Bellamy?"

He turned his neck partially, still holding Clarke's hand, watching Abby walk over to him warily. Gabriel followed her promptly, as if afraid she might fall to the ground at any moment.

Abby stood beside him, resting one hand on his back and the other on Clarke's leg. Her eyes were red and puffy and he could see the fear still present in them; he felt it too. Clarke was out of danger now, but the memories of the moment her heart stopped were still fresh in his mind. It would take him a long time to recover.

"You did it again," she said.

"I didn’t do anything. _Clarke_ did.”

She smiled weakly, capturing his gaze softly.

"Gabriel told me what you did," she mentioned. “How you helped Clarke get rid of of Josephine. And you have no idea how good it feels, knowing that you fight for her as much as you fight for yourself.”

He shook his head, ready to answer her, but Abby continued:

“I heard Octavia telling you about what Clarke said before going into the anomaly. And maybe those words don't mean so much to you coming from me, but I'm proud of you too. I met your mother on the Ark and I'm sure she would be, too.”

Bellamy felt a lump forming in his throat at the mention of his mother. Everyone knew Abby Griffin back in space, she was the best doctor they had. But he had no idea that she knew his mom, personally.

“Whenever Clarke talks about you, she says how hard it is for you to recognize your own self-worth, because you’re always thinking about the past. She’s been trying to show you how much you’re worth and I think it’s important for you to know that your past doesn’t define you. You did bad things, but you also did good. And what you did for all the people you saved… all you ever did for _Clarke_ … _that's_ what you are. This is the real Bellamy and I can see it clearly, because your heart is good.”

 _You've got such a big heart, Bellamy_ , Clarke had once said, placing her palm on his chest. He had no idea she talked to Abby about him, that he was important enough for her to try to find ways to make him see his self-worth. Clarke was wrong, _she_ had a big heart.

His eyes met her face, peaceful and flushed. Abby removed her hand from his back and leaned slightly toward Clarke, checking her breathing.

“I have to clean this,” she said, reaching Clarke’s face, where Bellamy had left bloodstains with his fingers before. As she moved to find some water and tissue, Octavia shifted her eyes between Bellamy and Gabriel.

"Do you think she'll wake up today?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

"It's possible," Gabriel said. “But I think she deserves a rest after everything she’s been through.”

"Thank you for helping her," Bellamy said to him, though his eyes never left Clarke's face. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

He heard Gabriel chuckling weakly under his breath.

"I shouldn't be here."

"You saved Clarke and hundreds of other people who would eventually become hosts for the Primes," Octavia reminded him. "I think this is exactly where you should be."

Bellamy looked up briefly to study his sister's face, which stared at Gabriel steadily. The other looked back at her with some kind of anguish.

"Aren't you against everything the Primes stand for? I'm part of it."

"You wanted to end the cycle."

"You told me I was a coward."

There was no accusation in Gabriel's voice, he was simply stating a fact Bellamy was unaware of. He shifted his eyes between Gabriel and his sister curiously, noticing when she crossed her arms over her chest as she did when she was being instigated and wanted to restrain herself from saying too much.

“You didn't have much of a choice. I know the feeling. I did what I could to survive, you did what you could to die.”

Bellamy knew about the dark year. He tried not to think about the things Octavia had done or how she probably cried every night before bed in fear of what she had become. Like him being conniving with the slaughter of an army of grounders that Pike inspired, the memories of Octavia's cannibalism and fighting pit would never leave her mind.

Gabriel held Octavia's gaze and Bellamy shifted his eyes to Clarke, refraining from intruding on that private conversation. He could still read Octavia as well as she could read him, and the way she behaved at that moment, trying to show indifference and avoid her emotions completely, meant that she cared about Gabriel enough to try to hide it. And she hated it.

Bellamy slid his thumbs over Clarke's knuckles gently, analyzing each trace of her face carefully; if he was as talented as she was, he was sure he could draw her face only by memory. His sketchbook would be filled with drawings of her, because he would never find another subject as beautiful or more worthy of his praise.

He stayed like that for a long time, just looking up at her chest every five minutes to make sure she was still breathing. At some point, his legs started to hurt and Gabriel brought chairs for them to sit. Octavia tried to persuade him into leaving the room for a few minutes, but when he refused again, Abby offered to bring food and water for everyone.

He didn't eat much, his stomach was still in knots and the urge to see Clarke's eyes open again and hear her voice confirm that she was all right was the only thing keeping him steady. Octavia left the room for a few minutes to let their friends know about Clarke’s condition and to learn more about Madi's. Emori had told her that Raven had made more progress, although the process should take a little longer.

About three hours later, when Abby, Octavia and Gabriel were all sitting around Clarke’s stretcher and talking to pass the time, — Bellamy only contributed to that conversation with short answers from time to time, unable to leave Clarke's face for more than ten seconds — Echo and Raven entered the room. Their eyes flew to Clarke's motionless body.

"Is she okay?" Raven asked, looking at Bellamy and Abby.

"Her blood pressure’s been steady for over four hours," Abby confirmed, clasping Clarke's hand in hers and offering a relieved smile to Raven, who mimicked it. "She’s okay."

Bellamy could see Raven's eyes watering, but she shook her head to ward off the tears and stared at Bellamy with a smile.

"We did it."

He blinked in astonishment and looked at Echo only to receive confirmation that Raven was speaking the truth. She nodded in agreement.

"Is Madi alright?"

"I deleted the code, Sheidheda won't be able to hurt her anymore," she promised. "She's still unconscious, but fine. We actually came for you, Abby. And to make sure Clarke was alright."

"I'll check her out," Abby said, rising from her chair.

Raven looked at Bellamy uneasily once more, evidently struggling with her own thoughts.

"Can you tell me when she wakes up?"

"Yeah," he replied, plainly.

She nodded, pressing her lips together in an unwavering line, and turned to leave the room with Echo and Abby. Octavia sighed and shifted in her chair, suppressing a yawn and crossing her forearms on the stretcher.

"O, did you get any sleep today?" he asked.

"No."

"Then go."

"I won't leave your side."

"I'll be fine," he promised.

She rested her chin on the back of one hand and shook her head.

"I'll wait until she wakes up."

"It may take a while," Gabriel reminded her. “And you _really_ need to rest, Octavia. You haven’t had a chance to do it after the anomaly.”

Octavia's heavy eyes met Bellamy's and she didn't need to say anything to make him understand what was going on in her mind. She still remembered her hallucinations from the anomaly, the ones in which he died in the fighting pit. He nodded subtly, without dispute.

"You can go if you want," Octavia told Gabriel, who declined the offer with a nod.

"I’m not exactly welcome by the people of Sanctum."

"I can help with that."

Bellamy felt his heart flutter at the sound of Clarke's slightly faint, hoarse voice, eagerly turning his face to her. His fingers tightened around her hand and he moved his face closer, seeing the exact moment she squeezed her eyes tight before opening them to the lights in the ceiling.

"Clarke?" he whispered, startled by the urgency he heard in his own voice.

She swallowed, the tip of her tongue sliding across her bottom lip, that looked a little bit dry. For some reason, he couldn’t breathe; he knew she was alive, he could _see_ her opening those eyes he adored so much to the world once again, but he was still afraid. Afraid that her heart would stop out of a sudden; afraid that her wound would start to bleed once more; afraid that she would close her eyes and never open them again.

But she took a deep breath, blinked one more time and turned her face to stare at Bellamy.

He was whole again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, are you guys proud of me or what? I actually managed to write this during my lunch break at work because I wanted to give you guys something (and I'm clearly obsessed with this show, this ship and those people). I hope it was good enough ❤️  
> The next chapter may take a while, but I already know where I'm going with this, so I promise I'll try to work faster. I want to thank all of you for your comments and your support, this means so much to me!  
> Also, stay safe tonight and grab tissues, cause the life of a Bellarke shipper is not easy and we're all on the same boat (bad pun at its best). But this is also Bob's episode, so yay!


	16. Chapter 16

Octavia and Gabriel rose from their chairs to approach Clarke, but Bellamy's eyes were fixed on hers as if trapped by an invisible magnetism. Those two blue pools that could so easily soothe him shone with wonder and a touch of uncertainty. His lips curled up involuntarily the moment she offered him a slow, subtle smile.

It was as if all the terror and anguish he had felt only a few hours ago, as he watched her die before his eyes, had dissipated immediately without a trace. When Clarke looked at him, there was no more pain or sadness; there was only her. He let the air out of his lungs through his mouth, bringing her hand, wrapped inside his, to his chest.

"You're back," he said softly; and it was so much more than just an obvious statement, but a confirmation that she had come home, to him.

Clarke blinked languidly, her eyes still tired and heavy, nodding carefully while still focusing on his face.

"How are you feeling?" Octavia asked, moving closer so that Clarke didn't have to strain to see her. His sister's expression was fearful, though she had a subtle smile on her lips; Bellamy guessed that the uncertainty about Clarke's reaction to her made her uneasy.

Clarke turned her face to Octavia, but there was nothing in her expression that denoted any aversion to her presence there.

"I'm thirsty," she said hoarsely.

"I'll get you some water," Gabriel offered, passing Bellamy to grab the water jar on a countertop and pour Clarke a glass. Gabriel handed the glass to Bellamy, who released Clarke's hands only to help her hold her head and drink the water. Her left hand covered his over the glass and although it seemed to be a thoughtless and meaningless movement, he felt a surge of electricity coursing through his body. Clarke emptied the glass within seconds and Bellamy helped her lay her head on the stretcher again.

"Thank you."

Gabriel took the glass from Bellamy and replaced it on the counter.

"Octavia, maybe we should let them ta—" Gabriel began, but Octavia cut him off.

"In a minute, I just..." She swallowed and shook her head, studying Clarke's face with a mixture of mildness and distress. "I'm _so_ glad you're alive."

Clarke smiled, closing her eyes for a second and then opening them again; no wonder she was still tired, she had just dribbled death.

"You don’t hate me?"

Octavia frowned.

“Clarke, you have a _million_ more reasons to hate _me_. Everything I did—” Octavia interrupted her own speech as Clarke slowly reached her free hand toward her, who stared at it in surprise for a few seconds before holding it carefully so as not to hit the needle that was attached to Clarke's vein.

"Octavia, it’s all in the past now."

"Not for me."

“Well, it _should_. I did bad things, too.”

"No, Clarke," she insisted. “I need you to hear that.” Looking up at Bellamy, she took a deep breath. “I need you _both_ to hear that. There are reasons for what I did in the bunker, but there are _no_ reasons for what I did to you. It wasn’t okay and it shouldn’t be in the past. Not until I say how sorry I am. And it's not just because I'm looking for forgiveness, but because I _need_ to say that. I need you to know that saying sorry won't change anything, but I _am_ sorry. I'm _so_ sorry.” She looked down at Clarke's hand and then stared at her again. “I know why you did the things you did. And I also know that leaving Bellamy destroyed you. But you came back and asked me to forgive him. Partly because Bellamy is too important to you and… I believe that partly because you knew the old Octavia still existed. You believed I’d let him go.”

Bellamy glanced between his sister and Clarke, not knowing exactly how to act. Octavia's words hit him deeply and he already felt the lump forming in his throat. Likewise, Octavia fought back her own tears, clenching her jaws to keep them from falling. Her glossy eyes met Bellamy’s.

“And _you_ , big brother... you _tried._ But I was dead. You carried the weight of the responsibility that mom placed on you for far too long. This is no longer your duty. And I hate Blodreina for what she did to me. But mostly for what she did to _you_.”

Bellamy felt Clarke squeeze his hand even though she was still looking at Octavia, and he used his free hand to wipe away a tear. For so long he had carried hurt and grudge against Octavia in his heart; he hated the feeling of hating the person he had once loved the most. But now, looking into her eyes and seeing guilt and regret welling up in tears on her face, he saw it: the same Octavia he had always loved.

"Blodreina is no longer here," Clarke said softly.

Octavia managed to smile crookedly.

"No, she’s not."

"And Octavia helped me," she continued. "I choose the present."

She nodded, letting out a low laugh as she let the first tear fall.

"Me too."

"I'm sorry, too," Bellamy said, receiving full attention from both of them. He could also feel Gabriel's gaze on him curiously. “For Pike, for Lincoln, for letting you—”

"I agree with Clarke," Octavia said. "I choose the present."

Bellamy bit the inside of his bottom lip, nodding slowly. Octavia reached over the stretcher and Bellamy took her hand; now he, his sister, and Clarke formed some kind of unbreakable circle with their hands intertwined. It would seem ridiculous to anyone else, but being there, connected with the two people he loved the most in his life, felt amazing. It was as if his life was falling back into place, just like his hands fit perfectly into both of theirs’.

"Well," Octavia said, shaking her head and pulling her hands to herself again. “Now we’ll let you guys talk. I'll let Raven and the others know you're okay.”

"Wait," Clarke said, moving on the stretcher to get a glimpse of Gabriel, who was standing next to Bellamy. "Thank you, Gabriel."

“Clarke, we talked about this. I just did the right thing.”

"You loved her."

Gabriel glanced at the wall behind Octavia, confirming Clarke's words with that simple gesture. Bellamy knew he had given up the love of his life to help save Clarke and end the Primes deification, but he hadn’t stopped to think about how being responsible for Josephine's death must had affected him. Bellamy had seen Clarke die only a few hours ago and almost lost his own mind, he could only imagine what Gabriel was feeling at that moment. He couldn’t even consider the idea of living without Clarke; Gabriel still had one more life ahead without Josephine.

"I'm so sorry."

Gabriel looked back at her and, this time, he smiled humorlessly.

“We had an eternity together. Now it’s your turn."

Bellamy could feel Octavia's eyes practically burning his face, but refused to look up at her. For a few seconds he had experienced Clarke's death and those had been the worst seconds of his life; if there was one thing he knew for sure at that moment, it was that he didn't want to spend another second away from her. But to say that he loved her then, when she had just deceived literal death, would be wrong. Though it frightened him, Bellamy wanted to be able to look her in the eye and say that he loved her when she was well enough to either decide to hear him out or leave him. He wanted her to have the option to walk away and tell him that she didn't correspond those feelings that were suffocating him.

“Gabriel… we have a place in Sanctum. If I talk to their people, I'm sure they’d let you stay.”

"I don't belong here."

"You _can_ belong," she insisted. “You helped us, you saved my life. And if you want, there's a place for you here. It's much less lonely with friends.”

That sentence made Gabriel smile almost nostalgically. Maybe he was thinking of Ryker and Jade, or of an old Sanctum where Josephine and Russell still existed.

"We have Murphy, but it's better than living alone in a hellhole," Octavia added, shrugging as Bellamy glared at her. Gabriel let out a low laugh, crossing his arms.

“I, uh… I'll think about it. Thank you, Clarke.”

"We'll go now," Octavia announced, covering Clarke's hand with hers for a few seconds and giving Bellamy a meaningful look before leaving the room with Gabriel by her side.

Clarke sighed heavily and hissed; her forehead and the bridge of her nose wrinkling with pain. Bellamy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the stretcher and caressing Clarke's hand tenderly as he watched her.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured.

She fixed her eyes on his face, seeming to study each line carefully. Bellamy felt suddenly exposed; it was as if she could read every thought that crossed his mind, every emotion that crossed his eyes, every sensation that ran through his body just by the fact that he was holding her hand between his. And there was so much emotion in her face and voice when she said:

"You saved me. Again."

His heart tripped.

"You didn't give up," she continued, and it took him a few seconds to remember what he had said to her before she was taken by the Primes. _I’d never give up on you._ Bellamy shook his head subtly, absorbing all the gratitude and affection with which Clarke was staring at him now. He felt incredibly privileged being on the receiving end of that look. Being looked at by her was already the greatest privilege.

And suddenly realization hit him. She confirmed his thoughts then with a faint smile that took his breath away.

“I heard what you said to me. All of it."

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, staring at Clarke's hand; his fingers had begun to draw invisible shapes on its back. Clarke opened her hand so that she could curl her fingers around his palm, making him look at her. The intensity of that look was far more powerful than he had expected, and as the seconds passed in a comfortable, overwhelming silence, he felt the lump forming in his throat again; tears welling up behind his eyes; the memories of the terrifying noise of the monitor, which Abby had silenced, taking over him.

Bellamy gave in to his own emotions with a loud, painful sob, bringing their joined hands to him and resting his forehead against her knuckles.

"You were _dead_ , Clarke."

She said nothing, but he could hear the faint sigh she let out.

“Your body was so cold, your… your heart _stopped_. My God, _my_ heart stopped, I… I've never been so afraid in my life.” He sniffled, sliding the back of her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her skin just to rest it against his forehead again. "You were _dead_."

"I'm okay now."

" _Now_ ," he lifted his head to look at her, not realizing that he had pulled their hands to his chest, where his heart was beating agonizingly. Clarke looked as serene as before and he didn't understand how she could remain so calm after everything that had happened. Slowly, she slid her eyes to their hands.

"Bellamy, your hands..."

"Your blood," he whispered, unable to find his voice. Her blood was literally in his hands and he didn't know what to think of it. Clarke looked up again, staring at him softly.

"Bellamy, I'm not going anywhere."

“You say that now. But something’s going to happen and you’ll put yourself in danger again and I’ll try to talk you out of it, but you—”

"But I'll use my stubbornness," she completed, daring to smile. He wanted to scream at her to stop treating the situation so lightly when everything that had happened had been anything but mild. It was heavy. It was dark. It was terrifying. "And my selflessness."

"God, I _hate them._ "

"Bellamy, none of this is your fault," she said, letting her smile fade away gradually. “Even if you had insisted more, I wouldn’t have listened. And if I hadn't gone, Murphy would be—”

"Murphy made his own choice."

"So did I."

"But you can't—" He swallowed his own words, fearing that the three words he had never said to anyone else would also reveal themselves in that inappropriate confession. Clarke raised her eyebrows subtly and he shook his head. "Not _you_."

“Bellamy…”

"No," he countered firmly, blinking hard to ward off the tears that blurred his vision. “Clarke, I don't… I _need you_. I know I already said that, but I don't think you understand what this means. I need _you_. Not just as a leader, not as someone to help me make the tough decisions to save our people… I need you as a person. I need _you_. _Clarke_. You were gone for a few seconds and I lost my fucking mind. What do you think will happen if you die, Clarke? I know we live in danger all the time and that we can't avoid everything, but I can't stop worrying about you all the time, because the very thought of you dying scares me. You’re strong and resilient, but you’re not invincible. I've done it twice, I thought you were dead _twice_. So, _please_ don't tell me I don't have to worry about you, because that's what I've been doing for over a hundred years and it doesn't get easier. It _never_ does.”

Those words came out in a hurry, without his having a chance to hold them back. He couldn’t see the look on her face, for he had turned his eyes to the stretcher as a defense, but he could feel her gaze on him. When the silence was almost becoming unbearable, she spoke again.

"Bellamy, look at me."

He considered denying it, just shaking his head and waiting for the storm of emotions that was going on inside him now to pass, but her tone was so sweet that he found himself obeying her orders involuntarily.

"I need you too. Why do you think I didn't want you in that room?”

Bellamy blinked, momentarily stunned.

“Did you ever think I just saw you as a leader or someone who makes decisions? I said you were too important to me and I wasn't lying. We've been together since the beginning of everything and I couldn't stand you,” she added, smiling. Bellamy felt his own lips curl at the memory. He couldn't believe how he could ever have looked into those eyes — those same mesmerizing, kind eyes — and belittled Clarke Griffin without knowing how incredibly wrong he was. “But that changed so fast. It scared me a little at first, because you became my family, my rock. And I need you. I’ve always needed you. _You_ , Bellamy.”

The only person who had ever needed him was Octavia; other people had already needed his help, especially during the years spent on Earth at war with the grounders, but no one had ever needed _him_. And hearing Clarke say that was equally satisfying and overwhelming, because he had never depended on anyone for anything, but at that moment, he depended purely and completely on her.

“So… I understand what you're telling me, because you're as stubborn as I am. But neither of us is going to change.”

He shook his head, confirming that statement eagerly. Clarke nodded.

“But it was Madi… I don't know how to explain, Bellamy… I couldn't leave her alone. But knowing she's fine now… I don't regret what I did.”

Bellamy sighed. He was equally relieved to know that Madi was fine, but hearing Clarke say that she didn’t regret doing what had almost resulted in her death was not exactly encouraging. They had always found balance acting as head and heart, respectively, but Clarke completely forgot logic when it came to Madi. He couldn't blame her, he did the same when it came to her — no wonder he had risked his own life and the safety of his friends to save her from Josephine.

"Don't say that," he asked softly, leaning his forehead back against her knuckles and closing his eyes. “I need to know that you won't try to get in front of a knife again. I'm so tired of you and blades.”

"I _do_ have a history with them," she joked.

Bellamy pressed her hand to his cheek, watching her through his eyelashes.

"At least accept my help when I offer it. Please."

She just nodded, lingering on his face.

"How’s your injury?"

"Hey, stop thinking about others for a second."

"You carried me here, your stitches may hav—"

"They’re fine." He didn’t mean to sound so annoyed, but the way she worried about other people when she should be the one getting all the attention frustrated him sometimes. That was exactly the kind of thought that made her hurt so much during all those years. But she smiled anyway, because it was nearly impossible for her to get angry at him when she knew his rudeness was just a consequence of his worrying too much about _her_.

Clarke fluttered her eyes shut for a few seconds; she was exhausted and that was evident, but the thought of letting her sleep scared him because the last time she had closed her eyes had been before her heart stopped. She opened them again, sighing.

"Do you think I can see Madi soon?"

"I can ask them to bring her here when she wakes up."

"Yes, please."

"Of course." He shifted his eyes to the stretcher, welcoming the silence again. He didn't mind sitting in silence when she was around, there was something fascinating about the way she made _everything_ — including sitting together without saying a word — seem like the best way to spend time. But a recent memory made him glance at her again with a curious countenance. Clarke noticed it and raised an eyebrow. “Before you went with Gabriel and Octavia… when we were talking, you were saying something. But they came in and you probably forgot about it then."

Clarke nodded without breaking their eye contact, but looked a little restless.

"Do you remember that?" he asked when she made no move to say anything.

“Yeah.”

“What was it?”

Clarke opened her mouth, but nothing came out of it. Then, she studied him, searching for something in Bellamy's eyes, as if expecting to find an answer for her own mental questions. He could sense her mind working full speed, but realized that this was an unfortunate moment and squeezed her hand gently between his.

"It's all right. We don't need to talk at all.”

"It’s not that."

"You're tired."

“Understatement of the century,” she joked, the tension fading away as quickly as it came.

Two knocks on the door anticipated Raven, Murphy, Emori, and Echo coming into the room; Raven quickened her pace as soon as she saw Clarke awake and Bellamy saw her eyes fill with tears the moment she stopped beside the stretcher.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. “Clarke…”

Murphy and Emori stood beside Raven, while Echo stayed farther away. Bellamy knew that she and Clarke had never had the opportunity to know each other and that there was no connection between them; not to mention the fact that it was still strange to be in the same room as the two when considering everything that had happened in the last days.

"Hey," Clarke replied softly, glancing between their friends. Murphy cringed slightly when she looked at him and Emori smiled, touching her leg with gentleness.

"Hey, I'm glad you're okay."

"Likewise," Clarke said, returning the smile. "Thank you for what you did, Emori."

"What _you_ did," Murphy responded, "was incredibly stupid."

"So I've been told," Clarke agreed, glancing at Bellamy for a second before returning to Murphy.

"Why did you do it?"

"Because we agreed that you wouldn't get too close to her and that's exactly what you did."

Murphy ignored her.

"Was it what I said before the eclipse?"

Clarke shook her head. Bellamy still remembered him accusing her of all the bad things that had happened to them. _You want me to be the bad guy,_ she had said, _fine, I’ll be the bad guy._ And soon she became Josephine. That would make for a good ironic joke if it didn’t hurt so much.

“No, Murphy. It was because you’re not expendable.”

Murphy stared at the stretcher with lost eyes and Bellamy noticed Emori leaning into him, touching her cheek against his shoulders with affection. He stared at Clarke with unreadable emotion in his eyes.

"Thank you."

"Thank _you_ for saving my daughter." And, turning her face to Raven again, who was still watching her with watery eyes, she repeated: "You too, Raven."

"God, Clarke... it was the least we could do."

Clarke blinked, her eyes roaming the room looking for something.

"Echo?" she called.

Bellamy looked to the side, where Echo was standing near the door, looking slightly out of place. Clarke couldn't see her from where she was and Echo looked at her friends uncertainly before receiving an incentive nod from Emori and deciding to join them.

“I didn't thank you either. I couldn’t have done any of that without your help too. Thank you."

Echo nodded, averting her eyes to the monitor solely to hide the fact that she didn’t know how to deal with what was happening. Bellamy couldn’t blame her: Clarke had no idea the reason Echo had broken up with him was _her_. This whole situation was awkward and the only ones who knew that were him and Echo — and most possibly Murphy, who was still thinking he had spent the night with Clarke. He had to clear that out.

"You're welcome," Echo said.

"Clarke," Raven resumed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Clarke, I'm sorry. We all are.”

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay," she insisted. “I was _so_ mad at you for what happened in Shallow Valley. And I said things that hurt you; mean and terrible things. But, Clarke, you saved our lives at Praimfaya and I can't blame you for the choices you made when we all depended on you. It is hypocritical. Bellamy was right, we hurt you so much and you kept trying to save us anyway.”

“Raven…”

“But almost losing you again today… and thinking that you could’ve been gone without knowing that I'm sorry… it just felt horrible. You told Murphy that he’s not expendable and the same applies to you. I hope you know that.”

"You're family, Clarke," Emori added.

Murphy nodded and Echo just stared uncomfortably at the floor. Clarke's face was turned, but Bellamy could see a tear slowly leaking from her eyes. Raven bent down to gently wipe it off.

"I'm so sorry."

"Me too. What I did wasn’t right, but I was desperate. Madi is very important to me. But so are you guys, and I'm sorry I lost sight of that at the time.”

Raven nodded again and laughed softly as another tear fell; Clarke imitated her, wiping her own face with her free hand.

"Lot of emotions for one day, huh?" Raven joked.

" _Too many._ "

"Damn, you tricked fucking death, Griffin," Murphy commented, letting out a short laugh. "For the _third_ time. You may have just got promoted to the main badass in this group.”

"Who held that title before?" Raven asked.

"Do you really need to ask?" He cocked an eyebrow, pointing his thumb at himself. Raven rolled her eyes and Murphy looked back at Clarke again, his smile fading slowly. “I’m sorry for accepting Josephine's offer, too. Good riddance to the bitch.”

Bellamy spent most of the time their friends were there in silence; even Echo felt safe enough to engage in conversation at certain point, but he was perfectly comfortable looking at Clarke and hearing her excited tone as she connected with their old friends. Her hand never let go of his and he rejoiced quietly at that fact.

He could see how good the presence of their friends was for Clarke. For a long time, she believed herself to be dispensable and hated by everyone — and maybe that perception wouldn’t change anytime soon, but that was a good start.

Jordan appeared later with his usual calmness and almost childlike smile that made Clarke cheer up because of his recovery. They were talking about Madi when Murphy walked around the stretcher and approached Bellamy.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Careful, Murphy, or I'll start to think you care about me."

"Man, you were _disturbed_."

Bellamy turned his head to look at him. Clarke was still talking to Jordan and their friends beside him, oblivious to that whispered parallel conversation.

"Where were you? You weren’t here when I came in. Or were you?" He couldn’t even remember his own name when he was holding a bleeding Clarke in his arms, so it wouldn’t be odd if he hadn’t noticed Murphy’s presence as well.

“No. I came to warn Abby and ran to warn the others, too. When Raven got to me, she asked me to tell Octavia as well.” Murphy lightly slapped Bellamy's arm. "It's _not_ your fault, man."

Bellamy lifted one corner of his lips in a sad, discredited smile. He knew it wasn't his fault directly, but the feeling that he could have done more to avoid everything that happened was tremendous.

"Maybe you should go out, take a shower and clean up."

Bellamy realized that the conversation between Clarke and his friends was over and everyone was paying attention to him and Murphy now. It was Emori who agreed with her boyfriend:

"You've been here a long time."

"I’m fine."

"You always say that and it's never true," Raven muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Go, Bellamy," Clarke asked, her thumb caressing the back of his hand and making him forget what they were talking about for a second. “You need to rest, you’re not fully recovered yet.”

He almost laughed at the thought of resting when his mind couldn't stop thinking about her and her well-being. He wasn't sure he could even close his eyes for five seconds, let alone for a whole night.

"I'm not going to _rest_ ," he said in an offensive tone, as if she was completely insane for thinking he would do that.

"I need you to go now," she insisted. "You can come back later."

Bellamy would have tried to argue if it weren't for her insistent look. He knew he couldn't spend the rest of Clarke's recovery in that room, but he would delay his departure as long as possible. He reluctantly let go of her hand and Murphy practically shoved him out of the room, accompanying him to the bedroom. Bellamy's wound still hurt, and bathing, dressing and undressing weren't easy tasks, but he had never done it all that fast until now. He tried not to think too much about the events of that day when he roughly rubbed his hands against each other under the running water to wash Clarke's blood from his skin.

In about thirty minutes, he was returning with Murphy to the medical room, where only Abby and Clarke were now.

"Where’s everyone?" he asked, hurrying to stand beside Clarke again. She smiled at him.

“Mom said Madi is fine, her vital signs are stable. Raven went to see if it's okay for Jackson to bring her here.”

Bellamy smiled, both because that was the effect she had on him and because he couldn't wait to see Madi well again. Abby leaned toward her daughter and placed a hand on her forehead; Clarke rolled her eyes with an almost mocking smile on her lips.

"Mom, my temperature hasn't changed since the last minute you checked it."

"It can change in a second."

"Details."

Abby removed her hand from her forehead and gave in, smiling affectionately at her.

"Maybe you should get some rest now, Clarke."

"You too."

"I'll watch Madi."

"I'll stay here," Bellamy announced, being immediately observed by the two. "I’ll keep an eye on her too."

"Bellamy, you just had an operation," Clarke pointed out.

“And I'll spend the night in the medical room. Where’s the problem?"

She didn't have to answer, because Jackson came in with Madi in his arms and Raven in pursuit. Bellamy hurried to prepare the stretcher on which Jackson laid Madi next. He brought her stretcher close to Clarke's and saw her eyes sparkle with tears of relief and sadness after everything her kid had been through. A trace of guilt still pestered Bellamy.

He saw Abby put her hand on Madi's forehead exactly as she had done with Clarke and smiled nostalgically, remembering his own mother doing the same procedure on him and Octavia whenever they were sick. Clarke also reached out to take Madi's hand into hers. The girl seemed to be deep in sleep; Bellamy hoped it was a nightmare-free sleep, with no Sheidheda, vengeful thoughts or death. Now, more than ever, he wanted Diyoza's vision to be true, so that Madi wouldn't need to care about anything but being a child.

"She's stable," Jackson commented, looking at Clarke, though she didn't take her eyes off Madi. "She should wake up soon."

"Thank you, Jackson."

"Do you need me to stay here with her?"

"No. Go get some rest now."

He nodded once and met Abby's gaze, silently asking her if she should follow Clarke's suggestion. Abby nodded and he and Raven said goodbye quickly, leaving the room shortly after.

Abby turned to Bellamy.

"Are you sure you're staying the night?"

"Yes."

She just smiled with an almost accomplice look and said goodbye to Clarke and Madi with a kiss on their foreheads. Bellamy leaned down to stroke Madi's hair for a moment and looked at Clarke when he felt her eyes on him; she was watching him with a small smile.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He straightened and circled the stretchers, pulling a chair to sit next to Clarke again. She turned her head to look at him, but her right hand was still intertwined with Madi's.

"It took Madi almost two months to trust me when we met," she told him, suddenly. "It didn't take even two minutes for her to trust _you_."

"Well, I _am_ her favorite hero," he replied jokingly.

Clarke raised her eyebrows in realization.

"Oh, right... you heard the messages."

"Madi only trusts me because of how you painted me in your stories."

"I just told her the truth," she said, as if it was only logical. "But it’s not just that."

“I _do_ have a history with children,” he confirmed, shrugging and resting his forearms on the stretcher. "Which is weird when you take a look at me, I know."

"It's not weird," she denied, letting the arm that was resting on her stomach fall to the side. Her skin brushed his and Bellamy didn't know what to think about the fact that she didn't try to pull away. Maybe he was just rationalizing everything when it meant absolutely nothing. He was losing his mind, and frankly, that wasn't news when Clarke was around. “You're good and kind, Bellamy. Kids feel these things. It's more than looks, you know.”

He never knew how to act when Clarke said things like that and if he wasn't so engrossed in the sensation her skin against his was causing right now, he would have used his hands to slide them over his beard or scratch the back of his neck as he did when he was nervous.

Instead, he stopped being a coward and held her gaze. She didn't break the contact — she _was_ braver than him, after all. He could feel every inch of his body becoming numb, as if she were Medusa and he could no longer move under her gaze. Suddenly, he wanted to tell her; to simply move his hand an inch to the side to take hers and tell her that he was in love with her. It would be so simple, so easy: three words, one feeling. But she was exhausted, _he_ was exhausted, she was worried about Madi who was sleeping just inches away and there was the obvious fact that she had been through several traumas in such a short period of time.

 _Coward_ , his mind hummed. He sighed and felt his muscles tighten as Clarke did exactly what he had been thinking of doing just a few seconds ago. She moved her hand and reached his, squeezing his palm.

"Bellamy, talk to me."

"I'm just... I'm tired," he said, which wasn't a lie.

Clarke lingered on his face, evidently suspicious of whatever had made him behave that way.

"Can you blame me?" he added jokingly, and although it sounded fake to his ears, it seemed to convince Clarke. She nodded, smiling slightly.

"We still have long days ahead."

" _You_ have long days to _recover_."

"I can't abandon everyone."

"You’re not responsible for anyone, Clarke."

"I know. But I talked to Jade and—”

“You talked to Jade? When?"

“When you left, she came to see how I was. I asked her to talk to her men. Ryker and Priya will be safe in Sanctum and Gabriel can live here too if he wants to.”

He blinked, completely stunned.

"You made a deal in what… _ten minutes_?"

"I had a century of practice."

Bellamy couldn't help the smile that came to his lips and she mirrored him immediately; his heart jumped faster than usual and he leaned in involuntarily, touching his chin to the back of her hand.

“In two days, they’ll have a ceremony for the Primes. Well, for the hosts of the dead Primes and the guards they lost. The families want to say their goodbyes. They want us to be there.”

"I’ll go in your place."

"No, I have to be there too."

"Clarke," he began, reproachfully.

She shook her head tenaciously.

“I need to be there, Bellamy. You know that. These people only accepted us here because we broke the cycle and we only broke the cycle because of Ryker. If we want peace, if we want to be better, we need to show respect.”

Bellamy sighed, licking his lower lip in frustration.

“Besides, you'll be there too. Now… I think I need to sleep.”

An irrational fear settled in Bellamy and he fought it as he faced her. Clarke would have to close her eyes at some point, voluntarily or not — eventually, the tiredness would overcome her and she would sleep. And though he knew that there was no danger around her anymore and that the monitor beside the stretcher displayed her perfectly stable vital signs, he couldn’t think about seeing her unconscious again.

"Okay," he said weakly.

"Can you help me with this?" she asked, indicating the blanket that covered her to the waist. Bellamy stood and pulled the blanket carefully, taking a little too long to tuck it over her shoulders. Maybe he wanted to postpone the moment of her rest, or maybe he just wanted to brush his fingertips over her skin.

"Thank you."

He just nodded and sat back in his chair.

"Bellamy, there's another stretcher right there," she said, waving her chin to the other corner of the room.

"I'm good here."

Clarke looked him warily in the eye, but said nothing; she herself had punctuated how similar they were when it came to stubbornness. And there was nothing that would change his mind about leaving her side. This time, he didn't wait for Clarke to make the first move and slid his hand under the blanket, finding hers. She sighed, a peaceful, relieved sound, and looked one last time at Madi before turning her eyes to him.

"Good night."

"Good night."

Clarke closed her eyes and he felt his heart shrinking; the sensation only went away when she released his hand only to intertwine their fingers. He had already held her hand, but never like this; this was more intimate, closer than he had ever been to her — and he had already shared a bed with her. But there was something about the way their fingers fit perfectly, as if they had been molded solely for that purpose, that made him feel his chest warming and his lips curling up into an easy smile.

Bellamy spent a few hours studying her face, the gentle rising and falling of her chest, and every single movement of her eyes behind her eyelids; he also checked Madi from time to time to make sure she was all right. And at some time at dawn, when his eyes seemed to weigh tons, he laid his head on the edge of the stretcher and slept at the sound of Clarke's breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys ❤️
> 
> Long time, no see. Sorry about the delay, as I told you before, I haven't had much time to write. But here's a chapter filled with soft Bellarke because (POSSIBLE SPOILER FOR 6X11 IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED IT YET) we deserve it after being completely robbed of at least a conversation about Bellamy literally bringing Clarke back to life. Like??? I hate this show and what it does to me. I have to resort to fanfiction to keep me sane. But at least we had a lot of touching and heart eyes (what else is new?), so that's something!  
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! We're reaching the end of this story, so I'll try to update a little quicker next time.  
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos, I love you guys!


	17. Chapter 17

Bellamy woke up to the sound of Madi's voice calling him. He squeezed his eyes tight before opening them and felt his neck aching before he even lifted his head; sleeping with one’s head and arms on a stretcher was definitely a bad idea. But when he felt Clarke's fingers still entwined with his under the blanket, it didn’t sound like such a bad idea anymore.

"Madi?"

He lifted his head and saw the girl staring at him with a weak, serene smile. Bellamy stared at Clarke for a few seconds; her face was calm and rested, her eyes still closed in a deep sleep.

"I could only see your hair, I thought it was you," Madi whispered. "I didn't want to wake Clarke."

Bellamy carefully let go of Clarke's hand and rubbed his eyes with the back of his own hands, rising to stand beside Madi. He smiled and brought his hand to her forehead as Abby had done the day before — and as he had done to Madi and Clarke each time he woke up that night.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. He's not here anymore,” she said, touching her temple with a look of surprise on her face. "What happened?"

"Raven managed to get him out of there."

Suddenly her face turned into a painful expression and she looked to the side, watching Clarke sleep peacefully.

"I hurt Clarke."

“ _Sheidheda_ did that. And Clarke is fine, see,” he pointed out, seizing the opportunity to remind himself of that fact. She was fine. Alive. Breathing. The red line on the monitor was going up and down normally.

Madi sighed, turning her eyes to Bellamy again. She didn't hesitate before saying:

"Bellamy, I don't want the flame anymore."

He froze for a second, gauging the face of the little girl who was looking at him with almost pleading eyes. _What should he say?_ It was obvious that he would love nothing more than to undo the mistake he had made — though taking the flame out wouldn’t mean changing the fact that he had put it in her head in the first place — and that would also bring relief to Clarke, but what would happen to her legion of fanatics who were still sleeping in Eligius, but ready to follow their commander as soon as they were up?

“Maybe I’m being a coward, but I don't… I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to lead anyone, I just want to…” She paused, looking at Clarke again. "I just want to go back."

Back to the past, back to the start, to the time when she didn't have to worry about anything else but listening to Clarke's stories and sharing her own. He understood. And if anyone would like for her to fulfill that wish, that person was him; the only difference was that he would like to be part of that same story. He would live with them in Shallow Valley and learn how to find berries and fish with spears; he would watch the stars with them and wonder when their friends would come home; Clarke wouldn’t need a radio, because he would be right next to her ready to listen to every single word she had to say.

"I know," he said, his voice hoarse and low. “And you’re not being a coward. You shouldn't have to lead anyone, Madi. That’s not your job.”

He and Clarke had taken on the responsibility of leading a hundred delinquents when they were mere children and the consequences had been disastrous. He was a broken shell with issues that no one could solve; Clarke was a lost soul trying to find her own purpose and seeking forgiveness. He didn't want the same for Madi.

"Can you take it out? Can you destroy it?”

Bellamy's eyes flew to Clarke immediately; if it was his decision alone, he would have agreed and asked for the chip’s passphrase in order to destroy it with his own hands. But he knew how important that object was to Clarke: Lexa was part of it and he clearly remembered seeing her suffering the pain of losing the chip so many years ago.

"I can take it out. But I don't know if I can destroy it."

"Why not?"

"Clarke."

Madi raised her eyebrows in understanding.

"Oh…"

"We can destroy it," Clarke said, startling them both with the sudden intrusion. She turned her face to look at them, stopping at Madi's face with an affectionate smile. "We don't need it."

"Clarke…" he began.

She looked at him softly; her eyes were still swollen from sleep, but she was more flushed. He hadn’t slept much that night; just as if he had one of those old alarm clocks in his mind, he would wake up every thirty minutes to check their temperatures and doze off again. That was how he knew that Clarke had slept peacefully, probably without having any nightmares. She had finally been able to rest.

"I don't need it anymore," she confirmed.

He held her gaze just enough to make sure she was telling the truth; and there was no doubt that nothing else mattered but Madi's safety and happiness.

"But we'll need to talk to Gaia first," he reminded her. "There's an entire clan waiting for their commander."

“We’ll talk to Gaia and worry about the grounders when they’re up.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.” She looked at Madi, offering her a sweet smile. "We’ll go back."

Bellamy hurried to find Gaia, who was in the cafeteria talking to Indra and Abby. To his surprise, it wasn’t difficult to convince her to agree to remove the flame; Gaia's faith had already been shaken when she discovered that Clarke's blood was unnatural and that nightbloods could be made. Her only concern was Bellamy's: to make heda’s followers believe the same. That, however, was a problem for another day; all Bellamy wanted was to free Madi from that nightmare once and for all.

Abby and Jackson showed up soon after, both glad to see Clarke and Madi awake and well. His friends also visited, and he saw Clarke's eyes sparkle with surprise as she saw them all, with the exception of Echo and Jordan — the first was probably not comfortable enough to pay another visit and the second had been summoned by Priya to a private conversation. He believed the conversation would help Jordan realize that Dalilah wouldn’t be coming back and he would need to be around to help Jordan when that happened.

The chip was taken out by Bellamy, though Raven and Abby assisted him during the procedure — his hands were shaking and his heart was pounding with the fear of hurting Madi or of crossing any limits with Clarke regarding the flame, even though she reaffirmed with every glance she threw his away that everything was all right. He handed the flame to her once it was over and she held it in her hands for a few seconds before returning it to him. He slipped the object into Raven’s hands, who would take care of it and put an end to that long nightmare they had been experiencing.

Octavia tried to persuade him into sleeping in his own room when night came, but he refused again, even with Clarke's protests that he needed to sleep in a comfortable bed instead of a chair in the medical room. Abby changed his and Clarke's bandages before leaving them alone with Madi, who was already sleeping soundly next to them.

"Bellamy," Clarke began, looking at him reproachfully. This was the first time they had been alone that day, and he hadn’t realized how much he needed to talk to her. "At least sleep in a stretcher."

"No."

It was easier to check their vitals if he was sitting, after all.

"It's not your job to take care of us."

"No, it's not. But I want to do it.”

Her gaze softened over his face and Bellamy held his breath, wondering if it was fair that she could control his body with a single glance. _No, it wasn't._

“Madi is fine and so am I,” she promised. “Please lie down and get some rest. You're going to get tired, Bellamy, and I need you to be fine. That's not going to happen if you don't sleep.”

He sighed, already knowing this was a losing battle. It only took Clarke showing concern toward him for him to fall apart; in less than a minute, he had positioned another stretcher against Clarke's. And when her hand found his again, just as it had the night before, he allowed himself to sleep beside her once more.

She woke up before him the next day, silently waiting until he awoke from a peaceful night of sleep.

"I think I can get up now," she said when he opened his eyes to find her face. He almost laughed, replying with a ‘good morning’ that she had obviously forgotten because of the excitement of being able to stand up. In the end, she really managed to get up when he helped her out of the stretcher. Clarke took a few steps, her hands clasping around his biceps for support, and he grinned involuntarily at the almost childlike expression on her face.

"Are you sure you want to attend the ceremony today?" he asked for what felt like the hundredth time when she released his arm to walk around the room on her own. He followed her steps warily.

"Are you still trying to talk me out of it?"

"Clarke, I'm glad you're up, but—"

She turned to him abruptly, making him stop mid-sentence and look down at her.

"Great, I'm glad too. So let's stop thinking about problems."

Bellamy laughed mirthlessly under his breath, and her gaze became empathetic over his. All they ever did was think about problems, possible negative outcomes and dangers. Their lives were ruled by negative thoughts and constantly concern.

"Hey, we're together again," she recalled. "I’ve got you, you’ve got me."

 _Together_ , the word reverberated in his mind, bringing back the painful image of Mount Weather and a lever defining the future of hundreds of people. He hated that image as much as Clarke, but it also reminded him that they would always have each other to make the tough decisions, to deal with the consequences, to ease each other's pain. She was the only one he could always count on and the only one he _wanted_ to count on.

Bellamy agreed reluctantly and in less than an hour, he and Clarke found themselves being sought out by Ryker, Priya and Jade, who wished to discuss the details of the ceremony being held at late afternoon. The Primes had a special event for the dead of Sanctum, and although the beliefs of those people had most likely changed after the truth about the false gods had been revealed, Bellamy believed that this ceremony would last for generations.

Not a single person was in mourning; everyone believed that death was just another finished cycle, a passage to a different life, almost like a rebirth. There was something beautiful and hopeful about that way of thinking. That was why the people of Sanctum dressed in bright colors on occasions like these and Bellamy had to practically beg Ryker not to give him any extravagant clothes when he said he would lend his clothes to him and his friends for the day. He ended up wearing a blue button-down collared shirt that stung his neck every five seconds.

The suns were already low when he left his room and went downstairs to blend in with the crowd preparing for the ceremony. Bellamy recognized a few people he had met since arriving at Sanctum and politely greeted them as he made his way through the refectory, searching for Clarke, but finding two different familiar faces. Raven was drinking something he didn’t recognize from afar, leaning against the wall and talking animatedly to Madi. Both were wearing differentiated clothes, just like him; while Raven wore a blue dress that he knew she hated just by the way she adjusted its waist with irritation every now and then, Madi wore a red blouse and jeans. They noticed his presence as soon as he passed the bar and looked at him curiously.

"Hey, Blake, what happened to your face?" Raven asked with an amused smile.

Involuntarily, he ran his right hand over his chin and jaws, where his beard once stood. He couldn’t say exactly why he had shaved. After showering, he stared at his own reflection in the mirror for a few minutes, deciding it was time to get rid of that character he had tried to create so many years ago. It had never worked, anyway. He was the same Bellamy, no matter what his outside showed.

"I was tired of all that hair."

"Good. Me too,” she stated, raising her glass as if toasting to that fact. "May this phase never come back."

"I second that," Madi agreed, giving him an open smile that made him melt completely. It was unimaginable the relief he felt to see her smiling again, with no more demons inside her head.

"I didn't realize everyone hated my beard so much," he joked, nodding to the both of them. "You two look great."

Raven rolled her eyes.

“Clarke made me wear this. She said it'd show respect, but why can _Madi_ wear pants?”

"Perks of being an only child," Madi replied, poking Raven in the waist and getting a smile from her in return. She turned her eyes to Bellamy with raised eyebrows. "You should see _Clarke_."

"Where _is_ Clarke?"

"She was talking to Ryker last I saw her and she was right..." Raven turned around, pointing with her free hand toward the door, where there were only two people he didn’t recognize, "...there. Well, not anymore.”

"I'll help you look for her," Madi decided, grabbing his hand suddenly and ignoring Raven's protests not to leave her alone, since none of their friends had left their rooms yet.

Madi pulled him outside and they got caught in the middle of the sea of people dressed appropriately for the ceremony that would take place in a few minutes. He saw the castle decorated with colorful flowers and leaves, petals scattered across the floor, creating a long carpet toward a wooden structure where the bodies would be cremated. He didn't know how their people had managed to do it in just one day, but it was beautiful.

When Madi led him toward the school and people's voices grew farther away, he gently squeezed her hand, making her stop and look up at him.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding and releasing his hand. "I talked to Jordan today."

"Hey, he knows it's not your fault."

"I know. It's just hard to understand everything that happened. I can't remember most of the things I did, but I _do_ remember hurting him and Clarke.”

Bellamy sighed, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I'm so sorry, Madi. I know I failed you. I should’ve kept an eye on you.”

“You were trying to save Clarke and that was the most important thing at that time. You were trying to do it the right way. _I_ wasn’t.”

"Because of Sheidheda."

"Yes."

Bellamy swallowed his own guilt and resentment; he needed to remember that the past wouldn't change no matter how much he wished it would and that, despite everything, she and Clarke were safe now.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore."

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with a new feeling that Bellamy took as a sign of joy.

“I'm just glad Clarke’s back. Thank you for saving her.”

"No need to thank me for that."

"She always told me stories of how you saved her so many times. I knew you'd find a way."

Bellamy frowned.

"She did?"

"Yes. Every day after calling you, she’d tell me another story. That's why I knew you’d come back. _Thank you_ for coming home to us,” she said, and his heart almost stopped with all the tenderness he felt for that child. He hadn't known her for a long time, but the bond he had formed with her was unbreakable. Maybe it was because she was part of Clarke — because it didn't matter that they didn't share the same blood, Madi was Clarke's daughter — or because she was now telling him that he was part of them too, but Madi was his family. “We waited for so long. And now we have _you_ and a _home_. That seemed almost impossible before.”

"Oh, Madi..." he whispered, frowning in a mixture of pain and mirth; pain, because now he knew that they had waited for him, depended on him during all those years; joy, because they still wanted him around even after everything that had happened.

Bellamy crouched down in front of her, holding her arms. Madi smiled.

“You’re here now and she’s happy. So am I."

He matched her smile, feeling the lump forming in his throat and hugging her with all the strength he possessed. Madi rested her cheek on his shoulder, tightening her arms around his neck.

"I'm happy to be here with the both of you too, you know?" he said. 

"Is everything okay?"

Bellamy released Madi to look up at Clarke, who was watching them with curiosity and a hint of concern. He didn't have much time to study her expression when she realized that they were, in fact, okay, because he was already standing up to absorb how beautiful she looked. Clarke wore a yellow strapless dress that matched her golden strands perfectly, its skirt floated gracefully with the warm breeze coming from the west, making her look like royalty. _Princess_ , he thought, almost smiling at the thought of the old nickname by which he used to call her so many years ago.

He was pretty sure he had gone into a brief trance when he finally met her eyes, but realized that she had been staring back at him the same way.

"Your face…"

"Oh…"

He ran his hand over his chin again, getting used to the feeling of his soft skin under his fingers.

"Much better, isn’t it?" Madi commented. He didn't know if she was looking at him, because he couldn’t take his eyes off Clarke, so he just smiled. "He looks so much like your drawings now."

He noticed Clarke shaking her head and offering Madi a wary look, but he kept to the way her hair looked even more golden under the afternoon suns.

"I'm going to talk to Octavia, she's right there," Madi announced.

"Okay. Stay where I can see you.”

"You too," she replied amusedly, ignoring Clarke's gasp as she ran toward Octavia.

The moment Clarke's eyes returned to his, Bellamy emptied his lungs, letting her scan his face intently. She stepped forward and he did the same, thoughtlessly, not knowing why — of course he knew why, but he would rather not think about it, otherwise he would keep taking steps until there was nothing else to do but to pull her to him and kiss her.

 _Why don't you do that?_ , his mind teased. And he gritted his teeth to ward off those thoughts, but relaxed his muscles at the sight of her smile, because it was simply impossible not to surrender to it.

"You look..." he began, then paused in search of a word he was almost certain that didn't exist. There was nothing he could say to describe how beautiful she looked — and it wasn't just the dress, it was _her_. Clarke was so beautiful that he didn't know how it could be humanely possible.

"It's just a dress," she waved it off, saving him from having to find a word. He almost sighed with relief, but the way she played with the skirt of her dress made him hold his breath.

"Well, it's not every day that we can dress this fancy," he said, taking advantage of the speech to adjust the collar of his shirt. His neck was itching and he was sure he would find a trail of red spots on his skin when he took the shirt off.

Clarke let out a low laugh and crossed the distance between them, holding his collar between her fingers as if that movement was perfectly natural. He felt her adjusting his shirt, her fingertips and her breath brushing his skin, his own heart racing as she moved her fingers to the top button of his shirt, opening it carefully. _Did she know what she was doing to him?_ Probably not, because as he searched for her eyes, she was concentrated on what she was doing.

“You buttoned it up, Bellamy. It’ll suffocate you. You have to leave at least one open.”

When she pulled back again, he felt his own skin burning where she had touched him.

"Well," he began, disguising the tension with a laugh, "not all of us came from a privileged family used to collars and buttons."

She rolled her eyes.

"It's not my fault, my father loved th—" she stopped mid-sentence, letting her face become a mask of sudden sadness. Her eyes were still on him, but lost. “He loved wearing these,” she added in a whisper.

Bellamy didn't know what to say because he knew her father was a delicate subject. She had already told him countless stories about Jake, things only Abby and Wells knew — some of them, she had only told Bellamy, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of joy when she trusted him with things she didn’t dare to tell anyone else. He felt like part of her life when she opened up to him, and that was how she made him comfortable enough to tell her stories about his own past, things only Octavia knew. Things he said he would never tell anyone.

"Sorry I brought it up," he said.

"No. No, Bellamy. Actually, those are good memories,” she stated, smiling at him and nodding at his shirt, which no longer prickled his neck. "And it looks good on you."

"I can't wait to get back into my own clothes."

"It's just for a day."

He nodded and let his eyes slide to her chest; under the hem of the top of the dress, he could see the edge of a bandage appearing. Clarke dropped her arms to her sides.

"How’s that? Are you in pain?”

"A little. Nothing I can’t handle. You?"

"Fine. If you need to go or if you feel anything at all—”

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," she promised. “Why were you and Madi hugging before? I know she's obsessed with you, but—”

"Obsessed with me?"

“She talks about you all the time, so yes, I'd say so. Nothing has changed since Earth,” she added, letting out a low chuckle and turning her neck just enough to see if Madi was still around. Octavia seemed to be teaching her a combat move.

"Well, I think this is a secret between me and her."

Clarke turned her eyes to him again, raising an eyebrow.

"Why do you have secrets with my kid?"

"Because she's obsessed with me."

Clarke rolled her eyes again, but smiled soon after, holding his gaze. Bellamy wondered if she could feel the electricity he felt now, the way his body quivered and still remembered the touch of her fingers on his neck. It wasn't fair, it was almost coercion.

 _Now_ , his mind said. _Tell her now._ And even though he had no idea what to say, he opened his mouth to let the words out. But Clarke had other plans.

"I think we should go now," she said quietly, nodding to the side, where a group of people passed heading to where the ceremony would take place.

He welcomed the cold sensation in his stomach, the one that only happened when he was about to do something new, scary or dangerous. Telling Clarke he loved her was all three and he hated himself for it.

"Yeah."

"Come on," she said, beginning to follow the flow of people walking toward the wooden structure under which the bodies had already been placed and wrapped in white cloth. Madi and Octavia joined them and soon all their friends were side by side. He saw Gabriel infiltrate the group shyly, being called by Octavia, who stepped aside so that he could stand beside her.

Unlike previous ceremonies, according to Ryker, the one who started it was Jade instead of a Prime. She spoke about recent events and tried to remain impartial in the face of the troubled whispers of the people attending the event. Jade introduced Ryker and Priya as usual, and they repeated what they had told Bellamy and Clarke that morning.

“We are gathered here today for another rebirth. Not of the Primes, but of the innocent lives that were taken.” He looked briefly at Priya, who nodded and clasped her hands in front of her body. “My mother and I were part of something we’re not proud of and today we end this cycle. Today we say goodbye to our brothers and sisters and welcome a fresh start. Let's honor the lives we've lost and pray for their rebirth in a better place.”

Bellamy could hear the side conversations and the rustling whispers of the people around him, but no one moved or raised their voices to the only two Primes left. In minutes, Jade and her guards began passing torches around to the relatives of the dead people and they placed themselves in a circle around the wooden structure. With a quick, almost synchronized motion, they threw the torches and the vivid, gleaming flames began to burn.

As people drifted to a safe distance and the flames of fire licked the bodies of the dead little by little, Bellamy remembered a similar ritual so many years ago: it was Finn's body burning. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Clarke, who was watching everything with her eyes clouded with suppressed tears — he knew she was remembering the same thing.

Instinctively, he reached for her hand and Clarke turned her face partially, not really looking at him, entwining her fingers with his. Bellamy looked down involuntarily, surprised at how spontaneously she had made that move, without worrying about what other people might think. _Maybe there is nothing to think about_ , he told himself. Clarke needed support and he was there. End of story.

They watched the flames burn quietly in the dusk and the sky had already turned almost black when the ashes of the dead were collected and deposited in small open holes in the ground where they would plant tree seeds, symbolizing the rebirth of the deceased. Slowly, the other people bent to pick up the petals that were scattered on the floor, and Bellamy did the same, offering Clarke some of them.

He didn’t let go of her hand as they walked to the place where the ashes had been buried and threw the petals on the floor, nor when people began to disperse, heading for the refectory where the dinner would be served. But at some point, Raven and Emori invited her to sit with them, and Bellamy encouraged her to follow them as he reluctantly made his way over to Murphy, Octavia, and Gabriel — a sight he never thought he would witness and thought it best to remedy — that had formed a group on the other side of the refectory. This was certainly an unlikely group and Bellamy had to contain his laughter as Murphy spilled his ironies, leaving Gabriel confused and making Octavia roll her eyes every ten seconds.

He sipped a few drinks, always diverting attention from his conversation to Clarke's table from time to time; she was smiling all the time, though she seemed a bit restrained, almost as if she expected the moment of joy to end and for her to be left alone again.

“Bellamy?” Octavia called him.

He turned to her, taking the last sip of his drink and watching her over the rim of his glass. Octavia, like Echo, wasn't wearing a dress like the rest of the women in Sanctum, but Clarke had made her wear a blue blouse and jeans. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen her wear and it made her look younger, almost like the Octavia from a hundred and thirty-one years ago.

"Hmm?"

"Are you paying attention to anything we’re saying?"

"Murphy wants to explore the woods and you want to call a meeting to discuss what we're going to do next," he answered casually, enjoying the way she tried to hide her surprise because she was absolutely sure he wasn’t hearing anything they were saying. He looked at Murphy, setting the glass down on the table with a low noise. "You wouldn’t be able to handle a minute of hallucinations."

"You underestimate me, Bellamy."

"It’s the opposite, actually. Anyone else would think you’d last less than ten seconds."

" _I’m_ anyone else," Octavia mentioned, taking the glass that was in front of Gabriel and drinking its content in one gulp. Gabriel eyed her curiously and she shrugged. "You weren't drinking and I need alcohol to survive this day."

Gabriel seemed to be assessing the situation cautiously, trying to understand Octavia, and a slight smile appeared on his lips as Octavia slammed the glass against the table harder than necessary.

Bellamy turned to check Clarke again, but took a double take before realizing that the table she had been occupying for just a few seconds only had Emori and Raven now. He excused himself and headed out of the refectory, certain that Clarke had sought a secluded spot for herself. He found her sitting on a bench in front of the lake, the exact same place where he had mourned her death just a few days ago. A shiver ran through his body and Bellamy walked over to her unnoticed.

"Can I sit with you?"

Clarke jumped slightly with fright and looked up, reassured to realize it was Bellamy. She slid to the side, allowing him to sit beside her. This time, he didn't bother to keep his distance or calculate his movements and let his arm brush hers as he sat down. Watching the moon's dull glow over the lake water, he thought of how he hated the memories he had made there. This was where he almost killed Murphy. This was where he almost killed Clarke.

"There are a lot of people in there," Clarke said after a few quiet minutes. "I needed some space."

Bellamy turned to her, but Clarke continued to face the lake with a vacant stare.

"Do you want me to leave you?"

"No."

He nodded, although she couldn’t see it, waiting patiently for what would come next. It wasn’t long before Clarke revealed:

"That reminded me of Finn."

"I figured."

She finally looked at him and Bellamy was momentarily mesmerized by the glow of the moon shining in her eyes. Clarke shrugged, clasping her own hands over her legs.

“I didn't even get his ashes. I know it's stupid, they’re just ashes, but… I was being so…” She sighed, letting him fill in the blanks with different assumptions.

“It’s not stupid, Clarke. You loved him. These people here in Sanctum, they loved the people who died. It wasn't just ashes.”

Clarke swallowed hard.

"I know. But still… I hate that day. I hate that day _so much_ , Bellamy.”

"I'm so sorry."

She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head.

“ _I'm_ the one who should be sorry. That was the day I told you to get inside Mount Weather—”

"Hey, I went there on my own," he corrected her. Clarke opened her eyes to him. "You didn't force me to do anything."

“No, but… Lexa convinced me that love was weakness. I was so broken after Finn and… what she said made me think I was thinking too much with my heart by not letting you go to Mount Weather. Because I cared. But I never stopped worrying about you and every time I didn't get a call every hour like we agreed, I’d start punishing myself for what I'd done. Every second, I expected to hear that you were dead.”

The glow of the moon had been replaced by a thin layer of tears in her eyes, and Bellamy tilted his head to the side just far enough away to face her. _I can't lose you too_ , she had told him that day after Finn's tragic death. He still remembered feeling momentarily stunned to hear her say that.

"I made it."

"Thank God for that."

“Clarke—”

She suddenly turned to him, bumping her knee into his and leaning forward. Bellamy thought that if the place was better illuminated, he could probably count her eyelashes one by one.

“I’m sorry I put you in danger. And I'm _so_ sorry you had to do that with me. _I_ killed those people and made you—”

"Clarke," he interrupted her gently one more time, placing his left hand on her knee unwittingly. She didn't move and if she found the movement strange, she certainly hid it well. “ _Again_ , you didn't force me to do anything. We did what we could. We didn't know that Jasper had a plan, we couldn't have known. You’re not the only one responsible for that and you’re _not_ a monster for doing what you did. I'll remind you of this every day if I have to. 'We're neither pure, nor wise, nor good; we do the best we know.'"

"Voltaire."

"We _are_ nerds," he added, laughing briefly. Clarke joined him shortly after and he felt his chest warming up at the sight of her smile. She hadn’t tried to move away from his touch yet and he took that as a sign that he could keep his hand on her knee. “I just want you to stop thinking about the past. It's been a long time and we’ve changed _so much_. We were just kids back then, doing everything we could to survive.”

"I know."

"People are inspired by you, Clarke."

She laughed wryly under her breath.

"Right."

“Madi is. _I_ am.” Clarke’s eyes found his with a hint of disbelief and he continued firmly: “Despite everything that’s happened, our friends are too. You once told me that I inspired people. Well, so do you. Look at what you did here. You made people who were ready to kill one another live together in peace.”

“For now.”

“Well, that’s a start.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he saw a subtle teasing smile appearing on her lips.

“You used to contradict all my speeches on Earth. Look at you now.”

Bellamy smiled, letting his eyes fall to the ground as he searched nostalgically in his mind for the memories he had from his days on the Earth. Most of them were of Clarke and Octavia and he cherished every single one of them. He remembered constantly disagreeing with Clarke even when he thought her plans were good — he was completely aware of the fact that he was a jerk and wanted to prove to himself that he wouldn’t let anyone else make the rules and lead him. And now here he was, ready to follow Clarke anywhere.

“I admired you even then. I had different ideas about things, but you were never intimidated. I misjudged you so badly.”

"You were _so_ annoying," she agreed.

He let out a low laugh, but Clarke didn’t react the way he thought she would. This time, she didn't smile or try to look away and he wondered if he had said something wrong or if she was simply reminiscing on the bad things he had done back then. But her eyes were tender over him, scanning every inch of his face as if she needed to memorize it for some unknown reason.

"What is it?" he finally asked, when being watched in silence by her became too much to handle.

Clarke tilted her head to the side, her eyes still analyzing him carefully.

"You just look so much like the old Bellamy now."

"Did everyone hate that beard?"

His response made her smile and she focused his eyes again, releasing him from the agony of having her studying him so closely. He didn’t mind it, of course, but it made it infinitely harder for him to stop thinking about breaking their distance and sending everything else to hell.

“I didn't hate it,” she denied. “This just feels more right. I can see your scar now,” she added, her eyes sliding consequently to the scar above his lips and making him wonder how she could do it so naturally and not even realize what that simple look made him feel. The consciousness that she was staring at his lips, even though her focus was in something else entirely, was overwhelming. Slowly, she shifted her eyes to his chin. "And your dimple."

Bellamy touched his chin automatically and her eyes continued to follow his movements. It was only obvious that Clarke would notice those things, she looked at things and people with the eyes of an artist and her drawings of him always stayed true to reality.

“It makes me feel like we’re back to when nothing had happened. No Praimfaya, no Blodreina, no body snatching. Does that make sense?"

Her eyes finally met his and he dropped his hand to his lap.

"Yeah, it does, actually."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

Clarke took a deep breath and stared at him silently for a few seconds, probably asking herself the same question she had for him, testing it before it left her lips. She was clearly nervous and he couldn’t help but feel the same.

“I heard you and Octavia talking when I was asleep in medical the other day. She, uh… she said that you poisoned her. For me. Is that true?"

Her voice was calm and soft, her gaze serene over his, but there was something about the way she asked that question that made him feel cornered. He finally removed his hand from her knee and used it to scratch the back of his neck, which was enough for her to know the answer.

"Yes."

He waited a few seconds, but Clarke said nothing. He tried to figure out what she was thinking or feeling at that moment, but there was nothing but a twinge of surprise in her eyes, a slight arched brow, her lips parted.

"I couldn't let her kill you," he explained in a whisper. That conversation seemed too intimate to be discussed aloud.

"And yet I left you," she replied resentfully, shaking her head at him with her usual don’t-try-to-make-me-feel-better kind of look. “We can’t change the past, Bellamy. I'm just telling the truth.”

"You went back to plead for my life."

“I could’ve done more. I could’ve sto—”

"You called me every day for six years and left me to die in the fighting pit," he began, feeling his heart crumple at the look she gave him. There was guilt, sadness, shock in her eyes. She didn't expect to hear those words from him and he never wanted to say them either.

"I'm so sorry, Bellamy."

"I said nothing would happen to you and I left you to die on Earth," he continued. “You're right, we can't change the past. But I'm sure that if you could do things differently now, you would. Just as I would. And knowing that is more than enough for me, Clarke. I trust you with my life. _I do_."

He didn't wait for the tears in her eyes to fall before he put his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her to his chest; she was bruised and fragile, but managed to lean her face against his chest and rest her hands on his leg. Bellamy tightened his arm around her, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head, hoping she could understand how much he adored her with that simple gesture.

"When will you understand that you're not alone?"

"I _know_ I'm not alone," she replied, settling her head on his chest and making him wonder if she was hearing his heart beating fast. “But _that’s_ the thing. I know you'll always be here anyway, because that's just who you are. And I'm always afraid I’m going to do something to push you away, because that's what I do.”

"That’s not true."

"It _is_."

“I think you have a tendency to push _yourself_ away from others. You always do that when things happen because you’re afraid of their reactions.”

"Can you blame me?"

“I’m not always here because that’s just who I am. I’m always here because I believe in you, Clarke. You don’t need to be afraid with me. I won’t always agree with you and you won’t always agree with me, but we’ll talk and we’ll find common ground. Together. That's the way it’s always been.”

"Clarke?"

She disentangled herself from Bellamy and they both turned to Madi, who was running toward them. A few people walked around the courtyard now, but they had been too absorbed in their conversation to notice them before. When Madi approached them, she frowned with concern upon noticing Clarke wiping her tears away with her hands.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I was just… I’m okay,” she affirmed with a nod. “Did something happen?"

“I just wanted to tell you that I'm going to my room. I'm sleepy."

“Oh, that's okay. I'll be right there.”

“No, you can stay. It’s still early and Gaia is going with me,” she said, pointing to the girl, who was waiting for her in the refectory door. Madi hugged Clarke with a whispered " _Ai hod yu in_ " — I love you — and turned to hug Bellamy before running to Gaia again.

"It's good to see her well," he commented.

Clarke smiled.

"Tell me about it. Seeing her happy is just… good. It’s been so long since she got to act like a normal kid."

"You know... she was talking about that earlier."

"Is that what you two were talking about before?"

"Yes. She told me you were happy and so was she.” Bellamy glanced at the water for a few seconds before going back to her, watching her through his eyelashes. “Are you?”

“What?”

“Happy?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. And the selfish part of him that liked to believe he was part of the reason why she was happy — like Madi had told him — rejoiced in her answer. He covered it up with a playful smile.

“Now… about those stories you told Madi…”

"Oh, no, please," Clarke complained, though her lips parted in an amused smile. "I won’t tell you anything."

But she did, anyway. She talked about how she told Madi about their first day trip together, how he taught her to shoot — " _and I taught her to shoot the same way, minus the jobi nuts_ ," she added with a laugh; she talked about how he had been brave enough to face reapers and help Lincoln during his addiction; how he put her name on that list as if she was indispensable — and here, he wanted to say she _was_ , but feared interrupting that precious moment forever; how he helped the people being held by the Ice Nation instead of taking the only equipment that would give them all a chance to survive Praimfaya in Arkadia. And Clarke's voice, which carried an emotion unlike anything he had ever seen before, and her eyes, which sparkled with a new feeling each time she looked at him, left him completely surrendered. He didn't see himself in those stories, because her perspective painted him as an infinitely better human being; but still, he let himself feel that selfish satisfaction of hearing her say such graceful things, things that made his chest swell with love.

He could hear her talking for hours and never get tired, but eventually, they realized that people were leaving the refectory to go to their respective rooms and it was a slightly drunk Murphy with his arms hooked on Raven and Emori’s who warned them that it was past three in the morning.

"It's so easy to lose track of time when we're talking," Clarke mentioned as she stood up.

"Come on, I'll walk you."

Bellamy rose to his feet and Clarke squeezed his arm, clasping her hands around it for support. They walked slowly across the courtyard, enjoying the silence, the soft breeze blowing through their hair, the moonlight in the blackened sky and the atmosphere of that night. Times like these, when they could simply hear the silence and contemplate the beauty of this new world, were rare.

He glanced sideways at Clarke, whose eyes were focused on the sky, thinking that if he was really brave as she had pointed out a few hours ago, this would be the perfect time for him to stop, look her in the eyes and tell her that he loved her. But they had spent endless hours talking about their pasts and things no one else knew, and the night was so pleasant that he didn't want to ruin it with the possibility of making Clarke sad or be rejected. So, he resignedly walked upstairs with her and stopped in front of her room.

Clarke let go of his arm and he looked down at her, suddenly unsure about what to do with his own hands. He shoved them into his pockets.

"Do you want me to stay the night again?" he asked, pondering two seconds after the words had left his lips if that had been inappropriate. If Clarke thought so, she didn't demonstrate it. 

"No, I'm going to sleep with Madi today. But thank you."

"Oh..." He tried to hide his disappointment with a nod and a rehearsed smile. Clarke was studying him closely again and he was feeling trapped, — again — even though he wanted to prolong that moment for some masochistic reason he couldn't understand. "Good night, then."

He was starting to turn around when she put a hand on his arm.

"Bellamy."

"Yes?"

"I trust you with my life too."

He was trying, he _really_ was, but she didn't make it easy. How could he resist his own feelings and silence the thoughts that were screaming at him to act fast when she said things like that and looked at him that way? For fear of talking too much, he just nodded, letting a smile spread across his lips. Clarke squeezed his arm gently and turned to walk to Madi's room. Her hand was on the doorknob when he called her.

"You look beautiful, by the way. I forgot to tell you that.”

Clarke blinked, taking a few seconds to absorb what he had said and smiling shyly in response. She opened her mouth while staring at him, but waited a few seconds before speaking again.

"Good night."

She disappeared behind Madi's door and he went back to his own room for a sleepless night, thinking that she looked like she wanted to tell him something else; something entirely different from 'good night'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> So, how's everyone holding up? I could barely sleep thinking about tonight's episode (I know, my obsession is unhealthy) and I'm SO scared. All I want is some Bellarke and their people to be happy for once. Is that so much to ask?  
> But anyway, maybe this chapter helped you calming down before the episode? I hope so.  
> Also, this is reaching its end and I'm thinking the next chapter is gonna be the last, so prepare for complete fluff and no plot whatsoever. I can't get enough of Bellarke, sorry.  
> Thanks for coming to my TED talk and give me some love in the comments. Love you all!


	18. Chapter 18

"So, let me get this straight, you want me to help with food gathering?" Murphy asked, staring at Bellamy with a mixture of disbelief and irritation from the window ledge where he was sitting. He had entered the room without warning, startling Bellamy when he stepped out of the shower to find his friend casually peering out the window that had a view of the courtyard.

It had been two weeks since the events that had eliminated the Primes and put his and his friends' lives at risk, and they were still trying to fit into that different world. Murphy was bored having no chores to do and had asked Bellamy to suggest an useful activity for him, which was an obvious surprise to him.

"Weren't you just complaining about having nothing to do?"

Murphy slapped his hands on his thighs in frustration.

"Yeah, but I meant something _productive_."

"You'll be getting us food. That’s as productive as it can get."

"Yeah, hard pass, Bellamy."

He shrugged, secretly loving the way the gesture had angered Murphy.

"Then I have nothing for you, sorry," he said, finishing buttoning his shirt. He needed to talk to Ryker about Sanctum's dress code; it had only been two weeks since the rebirth ceremony and today they would attend another event that celebrated the arrival of the first settlers of Sanctum.

"Why aren't _you and Clarke_ helping with the food?" Murphy retorted.

“We might as well. There's so much to do in this world, Murphy. We have plenty of time to figure it all out. In the meantime, you're part of the decision-making team, so… be happy about that.”

" _Yay_ ," Murphy chirped in irony, though Bellamy knew, from the way he tried to suppress a smile by turning his face to the window, that he enjoyed being included in the group's decision-making plans.

"You can always help Raven or Ryker."

"Yeah, I’m not much of a tech guy."

"Your talents include making inappropriate jokes and being annoying," Bellamy said, giving him a playful smile and sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his socks. "I don't know how I can help you."

"I’ll keep making inappropriate jokes and annoying _you_."

"Sounds like a plan," he decided, standing up to find his shoes. "Now let me get dressed, because we're already late."

"Are we _really_ going to this lame thing?"

“You know we have to go, Murphy. Those are their traditions and we’re still new here. Besides… maybe you can get your mind off things and relax a little.”

Out of the corner of his eye Bellamy saw Murphy rise from the window and let his body fall languidly on his bed, resting his arms under his head and staring at the ceiling.

"Don't worry," he continued, stopping his search for his shoes to look at his friend. “We’ll find something for you. Clarke and I are going to talk about this later, actually.”

Murphy sat on the bed, crossing his ankles and propping his elbows on the mattress. His gaze was curious and Bellamy raised his eyebrows at him, urging him to utter the words that were in his mind.

"What's the deal with you two?"

"What do you mean?"

“Oh, come on, man. You spent the night in her room when she came back from the anomaly and you haven’t left her side since then. I've seen you come in here at night sometimes too and it's no secret that you've always been a little _too_ protective of her.”

Bellamy's gaze hardened on Murphy, who didn't even blink; on the contrary, he straightened on the bed and stared at Bellamy as if urging him to counter his words. And he couldn't, because he knew he hadn't left Clarke’s side since she came back to him. Every day, Bellamy made sure she was all right, and although the injury on her chest was just a reddish scar on her skin now, he was still constantly worried about her being in pain.

When they weren’t planning the future of their people or discussing the future of the people of Sanctum alongside Ryker and Priya, he and Clarke always found time for themselves; they often enjoyed their time sitting side by side in silence — which was much appreciated after a whole day of dealing with their people's needs and listening to complaints from Murphy — or walking around and talking about everything and nothing at once. And at the end of the day, he always accompanied her to her bedroom with a question dancing on his eyes without ever really revealing itself. _Do you want me to spend the night?_ She had never asked him to stay again after that first night, but on the rare occasions when she didn't sleep in Madi's room, she would invite him in and they would talk for a few more hours until Clarke started yawning.

“Nothing happened, Murphy. She was afraid to sleep and asked me to stay in the room. You know, after the whole sharing-a-mind-with-someone-else thing.”

" _Right._ A completely normal experience.”

"Why are you so interested in my life, anyway?"

“I'm not _interested_ in your life, I'm just bored. This seemed like an exciting story, but apparently, it’s not. You're still a chicken and I'm still bored.”

" _Murphy_ —"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah" Murphy muttered, rising in one swift, agile motion and looking down at his own body. He was wearing his regular clothes. “Is it okay for me to wear this or do I need to go all rainbow for this? They sure love colors around here.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and straightened the cuffs of his own shirt, ignoring Murphy's question and turning his head to the door when he heard three knocks.

"Can you get that?"

Murphy grunted under his breath, grumbling as he shuffled to the door reluctantly.

"Oh, speak of the devil!"

"Hi to you too, Murphy," Clarke said jokingly, entering the room next to Emori, who took Murphy's hand and frowned at him.

"What are you still doing here, John? People are already down there, we have to go."

"Bellamy was boring me with his stories."

"Get out of here, Murphy," Bellamy pointed at the door and received a wry grin from his friend in return. He patted Clarke on the back and walked out with Emori, closing the door behind him. "Sorry," he added, enjoying the moment of silence Murphy's absence brought. Clarke shook her head as if to say that he shouldn’t worry about that; their years beside Murphy had already made them used to that kind of behavior.

"You're late," she pointed out, crossing her arms as she stopped to face him.

"I know, I was getting ready, but Murphy came out of nowhere." He turned around to continue the search for his shoes that had been interrupted by Murphy's inappropriate speech.

"Were you guys talking about me?" she asked, referring to the way Murphy had greeted her just seconds ago.

Bellamy finally found his shoes in a compartment in the corner of the room and walked past Clarke to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, I was telling him you and I are making some decisions about what we’re doing around here. He's bored and wants to help with something."

"Murphy wants to help _spontaneously_?" she echoed, adding a low laugh that he mimicked. Bellamy bent down to tie his shoes, taking extra time as an excuse not to look at her as she began to pace the room slowly, watching each furniture and wall decoration. "We can talk about it later," she agreed, stopping in front of a nearly empty bookcase except for two books that were already there when Bellamy arrived and his own copy of the The Iliad.

"Yeah, we can meet at the office after the party. If Miller isn't too drunk for that."

"Let him have some fun," she said, turning her face to smile at him. Bellamy mirrored her and let his eyes wander to her clothes, which were similar to what she usually wore.

"No dress today?"

"No, there's a limit to everything. I needed pants."

He laughed softly and bent down again to finish tying his shoe.

"What is this?" Clarke asked.

Bellamy looked up at the piece of paper she had taken from his book without his noticing. For some unknown reason, he felt his stomach turn and the feeling didn't go away as he stood and Clarke continued to stare at him.

"Uh… this is where I wrote down what you told me in Morse code," he explained, his eyes moving to the word ‘ _alive_ ’ that he had written in bold letters to convince himself that he wasn't losing his mind.

"And you kept it?"

"Yes."

He had no plans to say anything else, especially since there was nothing else to say about it or about the fact that he had kept that paper inside the same book he read every night before bed, using it as a mean to soothe his soul and remind himself that she was still breathing. She fought for her life and she was alive, sleeping only two doors away from him every night. But Clarke was staring at him in wonder and surprise, and he couldn't escape when she asked the dreaded question:

"Why?"

"I... I'm not sure. I couldn't throw it away.”

Clarke closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if trying to organize her own thoughts in her mind, and Bellamy looked at his book, which was open on the desk, absently running his index finger over a page.

"It's not just a piece of paper," he continued, clearing his throat before looking at her again. She was firmly holding the paper in both hands. “When I wrote this, I thought I was going crazy. Miller thought so too, he didn't believe me. And I started to think I was just looking for signs that you were still there. But you _were_. And that word… _alive_ … it never meant so much to me as it does now. I just need this to remind myself that you’re here.”

"You’ve got me here," she replied immediately, without hesitation.

Bellamy swallowed, studying her gaze with the remnant of calmness he still possessed. It wasn’t possible for her to say those words and not hear the ambiguous meaning in them. It had been days since he had started to bite his tongue to prevent a confession because he was certain he was once again looking for signs — signs that she knew what he felt and corresponded. He knew he should have already told her everything, but the last few weeks had been busy with meetings and decision-making, and all he wanted was for her to have some peace, without having to worry about anything else.

Taking a deep breath, Bellamy stepped toward her, stealing the paper from her hands. Clarke watched him closely, as if she couldn't miss a single movement. And when he held the piece of paper to his chest and she blinked with a pang of curiosity and admiration in her eyes, he knew. It was a click, like a simple push of a button that made everything work in a second.

_This is it. Now._

"We never know how much time we have," he began.

"No, we don't."

“And I've lost you so many times that—”

"Bellamy," she chided him softly.

“I _have_ , Clarke. Not just when I thought you were dead, but every time we were apart. I lost you when you walked away after Mount Weather, I lost you when you decided to stay in Polis instead of coming home with me, I lost you when Roan took you. I never knew what was going to happen and every time I got you back, I was afraid that you’d leave again. And every time you did, it was _hell_. And maybe, if I’d been smart enough to know it at the time, it wouldn't have taken me so long.”

"Know what?" she asked cautiously.

Bellamy clenched his jaws in nervousness and placed the piece of paper he was still holding against his chest inside his book again. Clarke was silent, watching his movements closely. He turned to her, his heart thudding violently against his throat.

"Clarke, you know."

She shook her head immediately, but the slight widening of her eyes and the change in her breathing belied her.

"I don't," she insisted in a whisper. "Tell me."

It was as if she was groping in the dark, searching for the answer that was dancing on his lips with excitement, making his blood boil and his skin burn. Suddenly her eyes shone with tears and he frowned, standing even closer to her. Clarke lifted her chin without taking her eyes off his.

"Why are you sad?" he asked softly.

"I'm not sad."

"You’re crying."

Clarke shook her head again, but the movement caused the first tear to slowly roll down her cheek and Bellamy reached out to gently dry it. He noticed that his hands were shaking, but Clarke was so engrossed in his gaze that she didn't seem to notice anything. She shuddered slightly and he felt as if the whole world was silent; as if that moment had drowned out all the sounds outside that room, the exact same place where he was now feeling Clarke Griffin's skin under his fingertips and once again understanding how much he loved her.

He had a feeling that his next words could have been heard from miles away even in a low whisper:

"Clarke, I'm in love with you."

Another tear escaped her eyes and Bellamy slid his thumb down her cheek again, holding her face in his hands. He felt his inner world crumbling down, destroying all his fears, insecurities and sadness. He had no idea why she was crying, but he needed her to hear everything he had to say before deciding to leave his room.

“I guess I always knew, but I was afraid to admit that you have so much power over me. But _you do_. You’ve always had. I risked everyone's life and my own to save you and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I've been shot, stabbed and tortured... I handled those things. But I _can't_ handle losing you again, it hurts too much. Octavia was right: when you bleed, I bleed. And that’s scary. That’s _so_ scary, Clarke.”

“Bellamy, I—”

“No, I just need you to know that. Time is a luxury we don't have and I need you to know that I love you. I need you to know that you’re loved and that you’re worth everything. I need you to know that, Clarke.” And, at the sight of more tears, he quietly asked: “Please, don't cry.”

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay. I'm not asking anything from you, I’d never do that. I'll still be here no mat—”

"No, Bellamy," she interrupted him, clutching his wrists and pulling his hands away from her face just to hold them between hers. "It’s not that. _God, no_. How do you think I feel about this?”

He felt his heart flutter.

"I don’t know. Tell me,” he echoed her words uncertainly.

Clarke tilted her head, sighing softly and lifting the corners of her lips in a smile he would never forget.

"I love you too."

Bellamy blinked, completely stunned. The only things that assured him that this was real were the erratic beating of his heart and Clarke's hand holding his. He felt his lips parting without a purpose as his thoughts were clouded by the words she had just said.

"You asked me what I wanted to say to you before I left Sanctum," she continued. "That was it."

"That was it?" he repeated, his own voice sounding strange in his ears.

"But I wasn't going to say it."

"Why not?"

"There was Echo, I couldn't… I wanted you to know in case I didn't make it back, but then you’d…" She sighed, releasing his hands and stepping back to brush her wet face. None of this made sense to Bellamy, because the mere thought of Clarke loving him as much as he loved her was simply surreal. “It wouldn't be fair to her or to you. I thought I’d have to bottle it up, ignore it. Because I wanted you to be happy and if I let it all out and never came back, what good would that do? You’d just get stuck with that in your mind and what for?”

“Clarke…”

"It hurt."

"What?"

“When you came back to Earth and she ran to you… it hurt. And it hurt every day after that.”

If the time he spent hurting when she chose Finn, when she chose Lexa or when she chose Cillian at that damn party was any comparative to what she was saying, he knew. And maybe she had been able to read those thoughts through his gaze, because she hurried to apologize, but he cut her off.

“When I thought you were dead, I was miserable. It took me weeks to start talking to our friends again. _Three years_ for me to forgive Echo. I pretended to move on, but I never did. You were always here with me, Clarke. It was so obvious that Echo noticed. It was so obvious that Josephine found out after spending _seconds_ by my side. And I don't know how it took me so long to figure it out when I spent most of our time together watching you fall in love with someone else and having my heart broken.”

“Bellamy...” She gasped, searching for words that probably didn't exist. And he understood, because if he hadn't been able to recognize love for what it was back then, how could she have?

"I know. I know, but I love you _so much_ , Clarke.”

The revelation of those words brought new meaning to them, and Bellamy felt a shiver run down his spine, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of helplessness. He could no longer resist his own feelings, much less the person who caused them.

Clarke blinked, folding her arms across her chest like some sort of a shield of protection. He took another step forward and she let her arms fall to her sides soon after, holding his gaze as if her life depended on it. Bellamy reached for her face, gently brushing away a strand of hair from her forehead, watching her sigh just as he did the same. She was as nervous as he was, and the realization of that brought him a sense of relief; this was a new territory, a line he was crossing, something that could no longer be undone if he made a move — not that he wished to undo it. But the anticipation of that moment and the idea that he was inches away from her lips was overwhelming and he let his body take control, as his mind could no longer function properly. Heart over head, after all.

He leaned down and secretly adored the moment her eyes fluttered shut a second before his lips met hers. He kissed her slowly, without hurrying, testing that new limit and trying to understand what she wanted and needed at that moment. Her mouth tasted like home, just like her every touch.

Clarke kissed him back and he soon felt her hands stopping at his chest; he held her face in his hands and deepened the kiss, feeling his breath mingle with hers. There wasn’t urgency in that kiss, because it wasn’t passion or lust: it was years of love, caring and craving for her. He wanted to touch her skin, feel her hair between his fingers, breathe her air and let her understand how much he loved her with each kiss.

When she slid her hands up to his face and her thumbs brushed his jaws, Bellamy wondered if he would ever be able to stop touching her after knowing what it felt like. He doubted it. But at some point, she needed to break the kiss to breathe and he opened his eyes to see her smiling at him. He could get used to the sight.

Clarke lingered on his face and he closed his eyes as she ran her fingertips over his cheekbones, his freckles, his chin, the famous scar and the corners of his lips.

"I love your scar," she said softly.

Bellamy opened his eyes, smiling involuntarily against her touch, because he loved every scar on her body, even the ones he didn't even know about. He wanted to slide his fingertips over each one and kiss them all, pouring love where once there was only sadness and darkness.

“I won't grow a beard anymore.”

Clarke chuckled and rested her hands on his shoulders. Bellamy stroked her arms slowly, loving the way her skin felt beneath his.

"What does this mean?" she asked.

"Whatever you want it to mean."

She frowned.

“Isn’t this going to be weird? For Echo and our friends—”

" _No_ , stop. We won’t think about anyone else today. This concerns _us_ and _only_ us. What do _you_ want, Clarke?”

"You."

The lack of hesitation in her response made him feel his chest warming rapidly, as if fire was consuming him from within. Everything still felt too surreal, too unreachable. He always had the conviction that the limit of his happiness would be to be able to survive alongside his friends and his sister, but this… this exceeded all limits.

"You have me."

Clarke smiled.

"I still can't believe it."

"What?"

“That I get to have it. Being happy. Having you and Madi and our friends.”

“You’ve always had me, Clarke. And you deserve to be happy.”

"You too," she retorted. "You know that, don't you?"

"I’m learning."

She smiled again, raising her hands to entwine them between his curls above the nape of his neck.

"We'll be happy," she promised. “We’ll have peace. Maybe even a home. Do you really think we can have a home here?”

"Yes."

"I'm always afraid we'll screw something up."

"We won’t."

“We lost the Ark, the Earth, Shallow Valley…”

"We’ve learned from our mistakes. We're trying to _be_ and to _do_ better," he said, pulling her hands to hold them between his own. “And those places were never our home, Clarke. The more I think about it, the more I’m sure that home doesn't mean a place.” He put a hand on the base of her back and pulled her to him, his lips touching her forehead. "Mine is right here."

Her hand found his face and Bellamy closed his eyes, leaning into the touch for a few seconds.

"Well… this is our sanctuary, then," she whispered back, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him once more. Bellamy smiled against her lips, unable to contain his own happiness. He was still learning and he wasn’t completely sure that he really deserved to be happy after everything he had done in his life. But if Clarke believed so, he wanted that.

He wanted happiness.

He wanted Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we reach the end of this story 😭
> 
> I want to thank all of you that stuck with me and read every one of those chapters. Your comments always made me smile and knowing that some of you enjoyed the crazy things that my mind created is awesome.  
> I might write an epilogue if you guys feel like it's worth it, so drop me a comment down here if you think that's a good idea. Thank you once again.  
> And let's pray Bellarke happens already so we can stop relying solely on fanfics. Amen? Amen.
> 
> Love you all. Be well, be kind ❤️
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr. Click [here](http://clarkcsbellamy.tumblr.com/) to follow me and see me fangirling about Bellarke and Beliza all day!


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys asked for an epilogue and here it is! Be prepared for extreme fluff, I don't regret a thing.

"Hey, what are you doing with my kid?"

Bellamy almost jumped, holding the slender body of the sleeping baby he carried in his arms tighter as he turned to see Diyoza lying on the infamous stretcher Clarke had spent the last few days on. She was sleeping soundly when he entered the medical room looking for Abby, where he found Hope crying. Diyoza had given birth the previous morning and this was his first time meeting Hope.

"I thought Abby was watching her," she continued, her eyes traveling to Hope's face with love and affection. Bellamy smiled, approaching Diyoza carefully.

“She was, but I came to get her to help a little boy outside. He was throwing up.”

"Ugh, don't talk to me about throwing up."

"I thought that only happened during pregnancy?"

"What do _I_ know?" She rolled her eyes, resting her hands on the stretcher to lift herself up and sit, clasping them in front of her abdomen. "This child’s been inside me for a hundred years, none of this is normal."

A wry sound escaped his throat and he looked at Hope, playing with her tiny little fingers.

"She started crying and you were sleeping, so I picked her up."

“And calmed her down,” she noticed. “She seems to like you.”

"She’s only a day old, she has plenty of time to know if that’s a good decision."

Diyoza let out a snort and he began to pace the room slowly, gently rocking Hope in his arms, just as he did with Octavia when she was a baby. The movement brought a nostalgic smile to his lips.

"You look lighter already," Diyoza commented, meeting his eyes and smiling knowingly. “Did my visions work?”

The corners of his lips quirked up involuntarily at the image of Clarke popping into his mind. The taste of her lips was still fresh in his memory and his mouth and he didn't think it would ever disappear.

“Yeah, they did. You could’ve been a little clearer about some things, though.”

“How much clearer did you need me to be? The only way I could be clearer was if I’d put one of those old neon signs in front of you.”

He laughed softly, adjusting the cloth in which Hope was wrapped snugly.

"Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm just glad I don't have to carry that belly around all day anymore."

"Now you have to carry a _six-pound baby_ around all day."

"Yay!" she hummed ironically, even though she couldn’t stop smiling. When she reached for Bellamy to hand her daughter over to her, he put the child comfortably in her mother's arms and straightened up, turning his face toward the door when he heard two loud knocks.

Murphy's head popped through the open door and he nodded at Bellamy with his chin.

“Hey, man, we're already eating. Come on."

“Have a drink for me. I haven't had one in… well, I don’t even know anymore,” Diyoza said.

“Judging by the amount of drinks Miller prepared, we're going to have a lot more than one,” Murphy commented, flashing her a mischievous smile. “Raven’s already in her fourth.”

Bellamy walked out beside Murphy and stuffed his hands in his pockets, inhaling the warm, pleasant breeze of the night. In the distance, in the fields of Sanctum, he could see the flames of a burning bonfire lighting everything nearby and creating a type of golden dome all around.

It had been Raven who suggested that; Bellamy had told her about the day they first stepped on Sanctum and sat around a fire, briefly enjoying moments of peace and quiet among friends. Clarke had also been there, and he distinctively remembered trying to avoid her gaze at all costs for fear of saying too much — they hadn’t had talked about her leaving him in Polis back then and there was still tension between them. Furthermore, Clarke hadn’t been able to enjoy that moment, both because of his cold behavior and their friends’ accusations and mistreatment — and he had done nothing to stop it.

Raven decided that they needed to recreate that night and make sure Clarke felt included — _'and drink until this moon starts to look like another planet,'_ she had added with an amused laugh — and now their friends and a few other familiar faces from Sanctum were gathered around the fire. He recognized Jade, Ryker, and Sierra from a distance.

"Where have you been all day?" Murphy asked casually.

"Clarke and I were discussing building our compound with Ryker and Priya."

Murphy squinted at him with a smile.

"Cool. Is that really happening?”

"Yeah. You're hearing it first, we wanted to tell everyone tomorrow.”

"I won't need to help with anything though, right?"

Bellamy rolled his eyes.

“No, Murphy. Keep doing your work in the kitchen.”

"You say it like it's demeaning, but it's an art."

He could no longer hold back a mocking laugh. After their conversation about their future in Sanctum, his boredom and the lack of chores, Murphy had vented his frustrations on Emori who, knowing that he enjoyed cooking and had an unusual talent for it, suggested that he try to help in the kitchen. Murphy was soon preparing dinner for them that same night.

"It's not _demeaning_ , I just find it funny that you were whining to me just a couple of days ago about working with food and now that’s exactly what you’re doing."

“ _Gathering._ You said food _gathering_. That’s too much work. I _cook_."

"Good. Keep doing that,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets to pat Murphy encouragingly on the back and finally walking toward Clarke.

She was sitting on a log at the far end, a few inches away from Raven and Ryker. With a sketchbook propped on her legs and her steady wrist on the page where she was scribbling something, Bellamy saw the lovely crease that always popped between her eyebrows as she focused on her drawings. She was so engrossed in her own world that she didn't even notice when he sat next to her.

He stifled a low laugh and placed his index finger on her notebook; her hand froze and she looked up, beaming at him upon realizing who it was.

"You're getting sloppy," he said teasingly, "that doesn't look anything like me."

Clarke lowered her head again, resuming her drawing of Octavia, who was sitting next to Gabriel on the other side of the fire. Clarke had drawn a smile on his sister's lips and Bellamy lifted his head to watch that same smile materialize in real life. There was a considerable distance between her and Gabriel, but their bodies were facing each other and they seemed absorbed in their own conversation.

"Narcissus," Clarke said mockingly, drawing lines that became Octavia's straight hair on the page. He was always enchanted with the way she created beauty so easily — and that was an analogy for what she did daily in his life. "I draw other people too, you know?"

He eyed her face calmly, taking every precious second to watch the way the bonfire flames made her skin glow beautifully, creating a mix of light and shadow that made her even more dazzling. Her hair tips touched her shoulders, swaying slowly as her hand gave life to a blank page. He could honestly stare at her for hours.

"She looks happy," Clarke mentioned, finishing drawing Octavia's hair. "It's been a long time since I've seen her smile."

"Me too."

Clarke ran the back of her left hand over the drawing as if to clean it and leaned over to leave the sketchbook and pencil on the floor. She turned her body to him and met his gaze. For a moment, she just stared at him softly and intensely — she was a perfect oxymoron — and he had no choice but to stare back at her, feeling whole, centered. Because he could, because she was there, because she _loved_ him. Sometimes he still doubted that was true.

"She needed your forgiveness," she said, simply.

"I needed hers too."

"We’ve all hurt each other so much."

The sparkle in her eyes dimmed his thoughts momentarily and Bellamy gently cupped her face and pressed his lips against hers. It was just a brush of skin, but it sent shivers down his spine. He felt Clarke tensing under his touch and he grimaced before pulling back just enough to cast an apologetic look at her.

" _Fucking finally!_ " Murphy shouted from somewhere nearby.

It had only been one week and no one else knew about their relationship, except for Abby and Madi. Although they had established that they wouldn’t think about anyone else's reactions or thoughts in regards to their relationship, Clarke still felt like they shouldn’t tell anyone to prevent Echo from getting hurt. The breakup was still too recent and she feared the other would think it was too soon. He agreed reluctantly, albeit knowing she was right, but failed two days later when he unwittingly leaned in to give her a peck on the lips before leaving the medical in front of Abby and Madi. While Abby suppressed a wide omniscient smile, Madi ran to hug them both with euphoria.

And now, there he was again, ruining everything because he couldn’t stop himself around her. In his defense, her eyes were his weakness and he couldn't think coherently when she looked up at him. Fortunately, Echo wasn't there yet, which would at least prevent a more awkward situation.

"Sorry," he whispered, dropping his hands to his legs.

Clarke nodded understandingly, though she was biting the inside of her cheek nervously.

"I was starting to think we'd need to have an intervention or something," Murphy continued, looking at Emori with an annoyed expression. "Why am I so invested in this anyway?"

Emori chuckled and tugged at his arm.

"Wait," Raven said, widening her eyes at Bellamy and Clarke. "You're like… _together_?"

" _Jesus Christ_ , Bellamy, what took you so long?" Miller stepped in, smirking before emptying the glass in his hand. Jackson laughed and put an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder, nodding in agreement.

Apparently, Octavia was right and he _was_ an idiot. If all his actions toward Clarke hadn't been enough for him to understand that he loved her, it wasn't his friends’ fault that they had been smart enough to understand the same thing.

"At your pace, I thought you’d only realize you loved each other after another hundred years of cryo," Raven added, letting out a funny laugh that spread to everyone. Judging by her slurred speech and unusual cheeriness, she had already drunk a little too much.

"Wait, they weren’t together?" Ryker asked, puzzled, which only made Raven laugh louder and lean forward, clutching at her sides.

"Lay off them, Reyes," Octavia said, although she was laughing too. "You too, Miller."

"Let us have it," Miller countered, drumming his fingers against the glass he was holding. "We've been betting on it for so long."

" _Okay_ ," Bellamy raised his voice, feeling Clarke's uneasiness beside him and finding her hand, squeezing it lightly. “How about we get back to eating and drinking?”

It was Murphy who got the hint and got up promptly with a plate of what looked like a crusty type of batter in hand. Parallel conversations began to rise around them and Bellamy saw Clarke sigh with relief as they were no longer the focus of the group.

Murphy crouched in front of them, stretching the plate of pancakes toward their faces. The smell was delicious, and though Bellamy had tasted Murphy's food before, it was still almost impossible to believe that he could have the talent for something so… _not Murphy._

"So, I tried a little something."

"You have no idea how much it scares me to hear that," Clarke said, mockingly.

Murphy rolled his eyes.

"Cute. I found these berries around here and put them inside the pancakes.”

"Are you sure it's safe?" Bellamy asked, just in case. Murphy wasn't exactly the most concerned person about the safety of others and he might as well have used a toxic food without knowing it.

"Yeah, it’s already been tried."

"You ate it?" Clarke asked.

“No, I gave it to one of the guards. It's been at least four hours and he hasn't died.”

Bellamy and Clarke eyed him reproachfully, almost as if they had rehearsed that move, and Murphy rolled his eyes again, sighing.

" _He didn't die_ ," he repeated, as if that was enough to leave them both satisfied.

"Oh, what the hell," Clarke said, taking a piece of one of the pancakes and biting half of it. She chewed for a few seconds and widened her eyes at Murphy, who already had a winning smile on his face. "It's _so good_."

"Told you."

Bellamy took the other half of Clarke's pancake and ate it, feeling the explosion of flavors forming in his mouth; it was sweet and citrus at the same time, extremely unlike anything he had ever tasted in his life. But then again, they had never tasted real food up until arriving at Sanctum.

"Oh... wow, Murphy."

"No need to thank me," he replied, giving them a wink. "Oh, and… hey, seriously… despite the century of pining and the idiocy of it all, I'm happy for you guys."

Bellamy smiled at his friend, appreciating the genuineness he rarely had a chance to see and saw Clarke put a hand on his shoulder tenderly before he stood up and returned to his seat with Emori.

Little by little, other people arrived and they had to squeeze over the logs to make room for everyone. Gaia and Echo had to sit on the floor, just like Jordan and Madi, who stood next to Bellamy and Clarke talking animatedly to them about every place they had visited earlier — exploring Sanctum was never boring, since they had miles and miles of land to discover yet. Abby also came by, talking briefly with them both and leaving about twenty minutes later; Bellamy found it especially comforting when she squeezed his arm and smiled before returning to her bedroom.

Raven and Emori switched places with Madi and Jordan at one point and engaged in a light conversation with Bellamy and Clarke. Raven was already in her third drink — since she had started talking to them, that is — when she put her hands on Clarke's knees suddenly and brought her face closer to hers almost dramatically. Clarke laughed.

"You deserve it, you know?" Raven said, patting her legs. "You both deserve it."

"Okay, I think _someone_ needs water," Emori laughed, pulling her friend away from them.

Bellamy turned to Clarke with narrowed eyes, assessing her expression and feeling pleased when he realized she was smiling. It had been a long time since he'd seen her so relaxed and loose.

He had no chance to ask if she was having a good time, for Octavia was already pushing Ryker away and taking his place beside Bellamy, while Gabriel sat on the floor next to Clarke. Lately, Gabriel and his sister had spent a lot of time together, and although Bellamy knew he was still afraid about Sanctum's people’s reaction to him, he knew that wasn't the reason why he was always in Octavia's company.

Gabriel noticed Clarke's notebook and questioned her about it, introducing a low conversation between them as Octavia rested her forearm on Bellamy's shoulder and leaned toward him.

"So, when were you planning to tell me?"

"Sometime far into the future."

She pulled her arm from his shoulder just to push him playfully. Bellamy laughed softly, an almost nostalgic sound; he had missed the stupid sibling jokes, the laughs, the caresses. And now, most of all, it was extremely wonderful to know that Octavia was back — _his Octavia_ — and that the bond between them was being restored every day.

"I was going to tell you," he stated. "Clarke wasn't feeling comfortable because of Echo, but I just screwed everything up."

"I already knew. I'm not an idiot.”

"No, you made it very clear that _I_ was an idiot."

"You still are."

"Thanks for the update."

Octavia threw her arms around Bellamy's neck suddenly and it took him a few seconds to respond to his sister's almost overwhelming hug, feeling her bury her face into his neck.

"I'm so happy you're happy."

He stroked her hair gently.

"I'm so happy you're happy too."

She laughed in his ear and released him quickly with a pat on his back, glancing over his shoulder toward Clarke.

“Does this mean I get to tell you embarrassing stories of him now? Because I’ve always wanted to do that.”

"I'm pretty sure I know them all," Clarke replied with a hint of amusement in her voice. He thought there were no more stories to tell after so many years beside her; Clarke had been his best friend before anything, and she knew things that maybe not even _he_ knew.

"You guys are disgusting." Octavia rolled her eyes. "Gabriel, how about those drinks now?"

"I already told you I'm not drinking anything."

“I know, you're boring. Now I wish we had Monty's moonshine. Go get me a drink.”

"Please," Gabriel said, looking at her with an arched eyebrow.

Octavia growled softly.

" _Please_."

Gabriel stood up with a broad smile, a reaction to the satisfaction of making Octavia repeat those words, and grabbed drinks for all of them, bringing a glass of water for himself. The rest of the night had been washed down with conversation, laughter and even tears — Miller and Raven were completely drunk and at some point in the night, Raven recalled that they had been separated during Praimfaya and triggered a rampant reaction in Miller, who wept for the _'six years he hadn’t been able to try Monty's algae.'_

"It was gross," Raven kept saying, tapping Miller's back in consolation. It brought back memories of Raven being drunk in space — Bellamy had never seen her like that before and the first time he witnessed it, she was crying to Harper about missing the smell of the trees on Earth. "It was gross, I promise."

And Bellamy couldn't remember laughing so much or feeling as lightly as he did right now, especially when he noticed Clarke telling her own stories about Praimfaya to their friends and participating in conversations voluntarily or wiping away a tear that had fallen from laughter when Murphy told jokes that weren’t remotely funny — it seemed like the worst jokes made her laugh and now he understood why she laughed at his as well.

As night fell and the sky turned as black as coal, he took Clarke's hand and rose suddenly, pulling her with him. The others were so immersed in their own conversations that they didn’t even notice their absence.

"What are you doing?"

"Here," he said, stopping near one of the greenhouses, away from the fire. The distant voices of his friends could still be heard, but he couldn’t make out a single word.

Bellamy sat on the soft grass and Clarke imitated him, watching his profile curiously as he bent his knees and raised his eyes to the sky. The stars glowed incessantly above, and he remembered hearing Clarke say that she and Madi used to look up at the sky, imagining that one of the stars was the rocket she should have stepped into to spend six years with them in space.

"A century ago, I was looking at the same sky and wondering if you were alive," she whispered.

Bellamy put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her down onto the grass, letting her head rest comfortably on his shoulder. He still hadn't gotten used to being able to touch her so naturally without her questioning it — sometimes, when he leaned down to kiss her, there was still a part of his brain that always thought she would push him away — and feeling her snuggling in his warmth was an incomparable sensation.

"Tell me about that," he pleaded softly.

“Madi asked me about the radio calls when she heard the first one. I told her I was talking to you and she asked me why you weren't there. I said that you went into space and that one of the stars was the ring. We’d look at the sky every night, and every night she would claim a star as each of you. Murphy was always the dullest.”

Bellamy laughed under his breath; his arm under her neck bending and his hand finding her arm to brush his fingers over her skin.

“You were always the brightest. She couldn't say your name at the time, so she named the star Blimmy.”

"I have a star named after me?"

" _Blimmy_ has," she corrected. He smiled against her hair, inhaling her scent and closing his eyes. "Bellamy?"

"Hmm?"

"When did things change for you?"

"What do you mean?"

“I was just thinking about that… and what Miller said before… and wondering when things changed. With me.”

"Oh," he murmured, slightly surprised by the question, opening his eyes to the sky again and tightening his arms around her. Clarke's hand rested on his chest comfortably. “Remember the day we went on a day trip to find supplies?” She nodded and he continued: “Well, I guess that was it. You told me you needed to walk with someone you didn't like that day and it annoyed me. It pissed me off when you said that and I didn't know why.”

"You were a pain in the ass."

He laughed.

"Trust me, I know that. You had every right to hate me. But I didn’t care that you hated me until that moment.”

Clarke said nothing and Bellamy waited a few seconds, wondering if he had said something wrong.

"I never hated you," she said, finally. He frowned silently, moving his hand into her hair, playing with the strands delicately. “But things did change for me that day too. That’s when we became friends. And shortly after you became my family. Just like that.” She sighed and moved her head to his chest; each time he breathed in and out, he felt her weight on him and his chest puffed with happiness. “I have a sketchbook with your face in every page.”

"And you called me Narcissus," he joked, making her laugh.

“When I stayed behind on Earth,” she began again, her tone calm and slightly serious, “I started to draw our friends' faces. I think I did it to keep myself busy and sane, but also to remember your faces, because five years seemed too long. I drew Raven first. I put her in an astronaut outfit, her hair flying inside her helmet. I even used some dirt to color it. Then I drew Emori and it took me two days to get her tattoo right. I drew Harper and Monty together and it took me another week to finish because I kept getting Harper's hair wrong.” She paused for a moment to chuckle softly. “I drew Murphy then, but I replaced his body with a cockroach. When I found Shallow Valley, I used a blue berry I found to color his eyes. I even drew Echo with a bow and an arrow and it took me a while to finish hers because I didn't know her features from memory so well.” Clarke sighed again and her hand tightened around the fabric of his shirt. “But I never drew you, not at first. When I put it in my mind that I wanted to draw all of you, your face was the one I wanted to see first. But for some reason I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't thinking about you, even though that was all I did. _All the time._ I thought of them too, but I missed you more. So I thought _‘screw it’_ and started drawing you. I was _so_ afraid to forget your face, Bellamy.”

He swallowed hard, sliding his hands up and down her back, soothingly. Those six years had been hard for him — with the guilt of leaving Clarke behind, the thought of her being dead, the thought of his sister being away — but he still had his friends. Clarke had no one. She was alone for most of the time and knowing that she missed him as much as he missed her was both wondrous and devastating.

“I started with your freckles,” she continued, “because I had them memorized and they helped me outline your face. The rest came easier, except for your hair because it’s a mess.” She laughed again and he imitated her, letting his chin touch the top of her head. “Then I drew your lips and your scar. And I stared at it for so long that my head started to hurt. _Everything_ hurt. I felt my skin burning as the radiation wave hit me, you know? But it wasn't even remotely as painful as not knowing if you were alive and if that piece of paper would be my only memory of you. After that, it was like my hand knew your face by memory; I’d start doodling and when I'd notice it, it was you staring back at me on those pages. _That's_ when I realized that I loved you and when I did, I laughed. I laughed so hard my whole body hurt. Because it took the fucking end of the world and us being on different planets for me to realize something I would most likely never get to say.”

Bellamy hadn’t realized that he had held his breath until it came out ragged, blowing Clarke's hair lightly. He tightened his arms around her and tried to look for something to say, something that conveyed all the emotions he felt at that moment. He didn’t understand how he could feel pain and joy concomitantly, but that’s what he felt at the moment. 

“I was afraid too, you know? To forget. I dreamed about you almost every night and whenever I didn’t, I’d start to panic thinking it was starting. That I was forgetting. But six years passed and I didn’t.”

Clarke tightened her grip on his torso and Bellamy stroked her back slowly.

"Can you show me?" he asked. "The drawings."

"You don’t think it's pathetic?"

"A little."

She clenched her fist and punched him lightly on the side, making him laugh. It seemed that was all he had done lately, and it was hard not to be surprised at the concept of happiness and lightness when all he had ever known in his life was darkness and sadness.

“I'm sorry you went through all this. I can't even imagine—”

"Then don't," she interrupted. “I don't want you to imagine. This is behind me.”

“But you can talk to me, Clarke. I know these things don't just go away. And you can talk to me about it if you want to.”

"I know that."

"Good."

She fell silent after that and he didn’t dare to break that moment of peace, focusing the stars high in the black immensity and thanking the heavens for being in the same place, breathing the same air, sharing the same floor as Clarke. He was pretty sure she had fallen asleep when she suddenly slapped his chest lightly and lifted her head just enough to get her to meet his eyes.

"It’s Jordan's birthday tomorrow."

He frowned at the sudden change of topic.

"Kids grow up so fast."

"We should do something."

"Do you think we can make Monty's moonshine?"

"I think we can, but is it _worth_ it?"

He let out a low laugh. The moonshine was terrible and he was grateful that he no longer had to drink it, though part of him still wanted to taste the drink just to remember his old friend.

“Murphy’s berry pancake?” he tried.

“If neither of us dies of poisoning after eating it today, then yes.”

“Then we should probably make the moonshine anyway just to be sure it cuts any possible toxic effect from the food.”

Clarke chuckled.

It was strange to be thinking of mundane things like birthdays and parties now; Bellamy no longer knew how many birthdays he had missed without anyone but Clarke and Octavia remembering it because he had been too worried about survival strategies — he still worried about those, even though he knew he would never have to fight or take any life again. The only situation that came closest to the dangers they had encountered so far were the few former followers of Gabriel who refused to live in Sanctum when Clarke offered them a place. They still showed hostility and could pose some danger to their friends if they ventured into the woods, but nothing compared to the terror and the constant sense of danger they felt when they first landed on Earth.

They could think about banal things now, things that would have never crossed their minds before, and it was liberating.

"Hey, did I ever tell you about Diyoza's visions?"

Clarke rolled over to lay on her stomach and rested her forearms on Bellamy's chest. He loved when she felt comfortable enough to get closer to him. Her eyes met his with sudden interest.

“No, you didn't. Not all of it."

"I know," he agreed, averting his eyes to her hair as his fingers began to play with them again. “The day you left to get your memories back, she came to talk to me. She told me she saw us both together.”

"She said that?"

"Yes."

"And yet you didn't think to tell me how you felt?"

He rolled his eyes, focusing her face again.

"Give me a break, Clarke."

She let out a lovely laugh that would be ingrained in his mind forever.

"She said you were much better at hiding emotions than me."

Clarke lifted her left hand, softly tracing the lines of his lips with her fingertips. Bellamy sighed in pure bliss, his lips automatically parting and her right hand meeting his jaw.

"Thank God I don't have to do that anymore," she said.

His eyes followed her lips and he lifted his head to kiss her slowly. Every time he did that — and, _God_ , he felt like he couldn't stop doing that since he had first kissed her — it seemed different. Her lips were the same, her taste was the same, the hands that touched him were the same, yet Clarke always seemed different. He thought he fell more in love with her with every touch.

Soon the kiss became more urgent and his tongue slid across her bottom lip as she parted them, welcoming the new intensity and clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in that unstable world. Bellamy felt his own heart accelerating at the euphoria he felt as his hands flew to her back and her own made their way into his hair. A startled sound escaped his throat and he quickly broke away from Clarke as he felt something heavy fall on his legs: Madi had casually sat on him, her own legs extended over Clarke's calves.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," she said, though she continued to stare at them with a silly smile on her face without moving.

"Madi—" Bellamy began.

"It’s okay," she said, waving her hand dismissively and only moving as Clarke laid back with her head on Bellamy's shoulders. Madi laid down between them, her head on his chest and her arm spread across her mother’s. Instinctively, Bellamy's hand found her hair, while the other found Clarke's. Neither of them said anything for a few seconds and he could almost feel the world slowing down so that he could enjoy that moment.

"Are they out of food already?" Clarke asked.

“No, Murphy brought some more. But I still don't trust him with the food.”

"Good girl," Bellamy said, making her laugh.

“I looked up and saw all the stars. It made me remember those nights when we’d look at the sky lying on top of the Rover.”

"I promised you we’d do it again," Clarke recalled.

"And now Bellamy’s here."

He smiled to himself, sighing contentedly as he rested his temple on Clarke's head and placed a hand on Madi's shoulder, as if telling them that he was, indeed, there.

"The sky sure looks prettier from here," Madi commented.

Silence slowly crept in between the three, the parallel conversation and the fire crackling in the distance fire being the only sounds in that place. Right then, he felt like they were the only people left in the world and the sensation was fascinating. In about ten minutes, Madi fell asleep.

"Do I have to carry her to her room?" Bellamy asked, turning his face to Clarke.

“Unless you want to leave a child to sleep on the floor out in the open.”

"Fine, but I'm sleeping in your room today."

Clarke chuckled under her breath and he frowned at her as she brought her face close to his. Her eyes never failed to mesmerize him.

"You used to say the same thing as a question before."

"Thank God I don't need to do that anymore," he echoed her words.

Clarke raised a hand and reached for his face, her thumb sliding down his freckles slowly. If he closed his eyes, he might fall asleep with the softness of those movements. But instead, he crossed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his, welcoming the familiar taste. Each kiss seemed to be a whisper.

_I love you._

_I adore you._

_I won’t ever leave you._

_You’re my home._

And her lips said the same.

When he landed on Earth in that dropship, he thought he wouldn't last another minute when he stepped outside, even though he had tried to keep his composure in front of a hundred delinquents. _The air could be toxic_ , Clarke had said. And he thought the same thing. But he opened the door anyway and let those teenagers out, thinking that that had been his last moment of peace.

But this, — having Madi sleeping peacefully over his chest and Clarke's lips over his under a starry night — this was it.

This was peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ❤️  
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos, you're the best!!  
> P.S.: I just wrote another fic, so if you want to read it, just click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20074480)  
> Be well, be kind.
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr. Click [here](http://clarkcsbellamy.tumblr.com/) to follow me and see me fangirling about Bellarke and Beliza all day!


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